Corrupted Hero
by S. A. Morley
Summary: In the throes of war, Calamity Ganon pierced Link, striking him down. The Princess swiftly sealed Link away, but unbeknownst to them, he had been infected with Malice. For 100 years it festered inside him, transforming him into something less than Hylian. Though on the outside a monster, a hero lies within, and in spite of his trials, he will rise to right the wrongs of Hyrule.
1. False Dawn

**Hey, peeps!**

 **It's been a while, hasn't it? Yeah... I'm sorry. I've moved on to other things, but I have grown to miss this site, so in that light, here I am! I've decided to post something I'm working on on here. I hope you like it!**

 **Writing feels so good, let me tell you. And so does playing Legend of Zelda! I have been happily lost in Breath of the Wild - I am so enamored by the rich story, amazing characters, sprawling landscape, and endless possibilities. If you haven't gotten a chance to play it (I realize it is a year old, now) then I couldn't encourage it more. The Switch is totally worth it!**

 **Anyway, I had this idea while playing BotW. I like to dress Link up in a certain armorset that just SCREAMED AU. I normally don't write them, but this one was just too intriguing to pass up.**

 **In this AU, Link was infected with a bit of Calamity Ganon during their face-off. After being sheltered for 100 years in the Shrine of Resurrection, he awakens in a monstrous form, having been mutated by Ganon's malice. While struggling to combat the vicious voice in his head telling him to give up, he endures the fearful treatment he gets because of his appearance. Though on the outside a monster, he's still a hero deep down, and he will rise to right the wrongs of Hyrule.**

 **If you're interested in seeing some art I've made for this AU, come visit my Tumblr! I'd love to meet you. You can find me at anemoiarts . tumblr. com. I'll be posting art and story there, and story here. Here's to a new project!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

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The stagnant haze of a century clouded the humid air of the Shrine. Painted a soft blue from the reverent glow of the resurrection pedestal at the heart of the room, the haze hung, silently, around the dormant form of a young Hylian laid across the pedestal. Sealed away from the world above, the Shrine hummed to itself in silence, as still as the Hylian it cradled. Forgotten by time and memory and ash, both the Hylian and the Shrine listened, awaiting the voice they had heard, every day, for one hundred years.

She was late today. Her calls had grown later and later, recently. But the Shrine knew she had a reason. Its patience could withstand the delay; time had always been its friend.

Though initially absent, she finally appeared from out of the darkness. She breathed her usual appeal just as intently and urgently as she had when the fields of Hyrule raged with flames.

 _Wake up, Link…_ she plead, faithful as always.

Her voice reached across a vast expanse, seeping through the Shrine's walls and drifting toward the Hylian. Gently, it pushed through the thick, ancient mist enshrouding the pedestal and sunk through the murky, protective lake entombing him, whispering its way into his mind, straining to inspire some form of life within him.

She paused, half-expecting something to happen. Her ears strained to hear anything — any movement, any sound. Anything. Yet in spite of her efforts, he remained stiff as death. Her throat tightened.

 _Open your eyes,_ she mourned, a pang of sorrow wilting her voice. _Please!_

Only silence.

 _...I need you..._

Nothing.

Crestfallen, she withdrew for a moment, choking back helpless tears. They stung at her eyes as if in punishment for her naught hopes.

She believed he would have woken up by now — now, more than ever — perhaps on this, the hundredth anniversary of his slumber. But why did he not wake? What was she doing wrong?

For an agonizing, almost eternal century in isolation, she had prayed and struggled and cried to awaken him, to bring him back to the world, to get his help that she so desperately needed. But as the years bled together without him, her hope had withered in the shadows, craving the light. Craving _him._ Buried in darkness and malice, she had grown weary, almost wishing to join him in his sleep. She had teased the thought many times, but found herself too afraid of what may happen to drift off unawares. She had fought too hard to let go now.

Each time she had called to him, the Shrine had replied with a crushing, mute, _Not yet._ Each denial was nothing less than a strike to the heart, thousands of times over.

She wasn't ready to give up on him, but just how soon was _yet?_ There had been no respite for her. Day in and day out, staunchly holding back a demon voracious for destruction, all while reaching out to a fallen hero. _Her_ fallen hero.

But just as before, she had nothing to show for it.

She wasn't sure how much more loneliness she could endure, and how much more silence she could bear.

But to her fortune, this silence was soon broken.

With her latest prayers on deaf ears, she was about to retreat back into her mind when, without so much as a warning, the Shrine gave a sudden shudder. The movement stirred the mounds of dust clinging to the corners into clouds. A deep, resounding thud rumbled through the stone of the Shrine, sending a ripple through the water submerging the Hylian as dust motes danced through the startled air.

The girl felt the tremor even from her high, polluted pavilion — it thundered through her mind with a mighty quake that brought her attention immediately back to him and his dull brainwaves. She poised herself, acutely alert, but her guard drawn.

 _Is it time?_ she wondered, her hope rising from the dust.

Though unable to watch what was happening in the Shrine with her own eyes, she experienced the great row of the structure within herself in sync with it. Beginning modestly, it grew more and more intense by the second, almost as if the Shrine were ripping itself apart with a calamitous bellow from deep within the earth.

From seemingly nowhere, a bud of nausea blossomed inside her, her head swimming with a dizzying heat. Puzzled, she endeavored to comprehend it. The Shrine of Resurrection, it seemed to have become… sick. It was the only explanation she could fathom. But machines, medical facilities, couldn't suffer infirmity.

What was happening? She hadn't the faintest idea. None of her research had told of this reaction. Concerned, she continued to monitor the strange occurrence.

This supposed sickness began to spread. Around the slumbering Hylian, the decorative beads of light on the walls flickered from a serene blue to a panicked magenta color, flashing in-between wildly as the Shrine continued to shake. Such intense movements kicked up a blizzard of dust and rocked the surface, trees swaying above ground, boulders shifting and fauna scattering. The terrific reverberations found their way to her; the familiar trembling of the earth brought back scarring memories.

In spite of the chaos, the Hylian remained obliviously unconscious on the pedestal until the crystalline-blue water around him darkened to a vibrant scarlet, bubbling and writhing as if in a storm. The light glaring off of the water and the frantic wall embellishments cast the room in a violent, ethereal glow such that the Shrine had never seen. The flailing of the Shrine only worsened as an alarm began to blare from a device on the solitary plinth at the opposite corner of the Hylian, clamoring for attention, wailing in fear and shock.

 _Something's wrong,_ she gasped.

The girl's body ached in tune with the Shrine. Amidst her pain, she paused and gazed around her, finding her own surroundings alight with a vicious glare. Her warden shifted restlessly, pulsating with power, its influence dripping from the ceiling and snaking beneath the overgrown lands of Hyrule, where it ingrained its corrupt claws into the Shrine of Resurrection, and in turn, into Link.

She realized with a stab of horror that, in her grief, the creature had wormed through a careless opening she had made, greedily spreading its poison. It was doing something to him. Something twisted. Something awful. And yet he laid, like a corpse, in the grave that was consuming him.

She had to stop it. She had to wake him.

 _Calamity Ganon?!_ she gaped. _No! You can't do this! Don't you touch him! No, NO!_

Had she the capacity, she would have darted free from her bonds, rushing for him. But she could not abandon her post. There was nothing another barrier could fix, now — it was already inside the Shrine. All she could do was scream. She whirled her mind back to him.

 _Link! Link, you must wake up!_

But he didn't stir. The beast seemed to thrill with satisfaction at her skyrocketing panic.

 _Stop it, stop it, you MONSTER! LINK!_

No matter her cries, he didn't hear. Or perhaps Calamity Ganon had deafened him? Regardless, there was nothing she could do but listen as the Shrine nearly rent itself into rubble. The alarm from the plinth filled her mind to splitting, an evil light blinding her, crippling her efforts to stay the beast's clutches. Pain lanced through her brain — she cupped her hands over her ears and pinched her eyes shut, but to no avail.

Petrified at the thought of losing her dear knight after all these years, and at her own misstep, she braced for the worst, her breath caught and her eyes welling with tears.

 _Link, Hyrule… forgive me… I've failed you. I knew I would… Father was right._

With its princess weak, the beast didn't hesitate. It greedily dug its way further into the Shrine. The blood red water surrounding Link ceased seething for half a moment before it abruptly surged into his body, piercing his pores, pouring inside him through his nose and mouth. As the dark water saturated his lungs and bloodstream, his spine arched and his eyes snapped open, his heart giving a heavy thump as it jolted back into autonomy.

Beneath his revitalized body, the resurrection pedestal cracked into pieces with a tremendous boom, scattering shards of aged stone onto the floor.

Then all at once, the Shrine's roars and rumbling stilled, as well as the beast's.

The chamber fell ungodly quiet, apart from its sole occupant; he gulped in a centuries-starved gasp of air, only to immediately choke on both it and the water flooding down his throat.

Rolling onto his side, he coughed up the bright red liquid in his lungs — it ran in small rivers onto the floor. His hacking shredded the once-peaceful atmosphere as he clawed for breath, continuing to spit up excess water for several moments before he managed to claim some control over himself.

He finally fell limp, his body relaxing from the shock. Draped like a sacrifice atop the broken pedestal, he savored his breath, shivering in the warm, moist air clinging to his skin. When his lungs had soothed themselves, he opened his heavy eyes and drew his gaze across the room, groggily wondering where he was.

The small, dim chamber was as full of clouds as his head. Unfamiliar, strange. His empty mind spun with dazed confusion. As the fire in his body steadily cooled, he blinked against the throbbing magenta light igniting the dust and haze swirling around him. The light issuing from the walls seemed to follow the gradually-slowing rhythm of his heart.

Curious, he carefully eased himself upright.

He rotated his head, analyzing his somber surroundings. The only other objects nearby were the lonely plinth in the corner, a sealed doorway, the shattered pedestal beneath him, and an odd, chandelier-like structure looming over his head. It, too, radiated an unnatural, crimson light.

As he ran his eyes over the remains of the pedestal, he sucked in a sharp gasp, flinching where he sat.

His legs — they didn't look right.

Upon waking up, he had no reason to believe they were anything abnormal, what with his nonexistent recollection of things. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was _extremely_ wrong.

Frozen at the sight before him, he found that he could quite literally see his bones — his femur, the tibia, even the knee cap — glowing with that same surreal, magenta light. They glittered up at him beneath black, semi-transparent skin.

Eyes widening, he raised a knee and wiggled his leg back and forth, baffled. His bones floated innocently in his leg, moving at his command. Running a palm over his knee, he stared. It certainly didn't look right, but it didn't feel _wrong._ It felt as normal as anything.

Beginning to stutter for breath, he repeated the action with his equally-transparent, bony hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers before his face. The movements of his claw-like fingertips disturbingly entranced him with such intensity that he almost didn't hear the voice return to him.

 _...Link…?_ she asked, breathless.

Her voice has trickled into his mind softly, yet he heard it clear as day. As if stricken by lightning, he jumped in his place, tossing his head around the room in search of the voice's owner. But he found nothing but the wordless haze.

"H-hello?" he croaked, his voice ragged. "Who's there?"

At last. At long, tiresome last. He was here. He was awake. Movement. Beating heart and running blood and breath in the lungs. A voice. Life.

Link. Wonderful, irreplaceable Link. And he seemed to be in one piece, though she was blissfully ignorant of his bizarre bones, as well as the rest of his appearance. She could only feel his strong, courageous presence, and it was like manna to her.

Her joy at just the sound of his voice was immeasurable — it swelled within her, a sunrise after a bitter winter's night, thawing her icy hopes and setting her heart alight with a golden dawn. She had no control over the tears of sweet relief that streamed down her face then, but she didn't even attempt it. All that mattered was that he had risen from the Shrine. He was here. All she had to do now was guide him to her.

But her delight was cruelly short-lived. She didn't get the chance to welcome him any further, for her warden reared its ugly head once again, howling at her. Bleary from her tears, she turned just in time to throw another barrier up between the two of them, only to buckle at the knees beneath the beast's power.

Like a ravenous wolf for a fresh kill, the beast pounced upon her barrier, baring its teeth with hate and clawing at its prison. Straining to keep it at bay, she took in its sudden energy spike with awe. It seemed to have taken a new fondness for Link as it mindlessly scratched and roared to bypass her and seize him. Perhaps it wanted to finish what it had attempted those hundred years ago, now that he was awake.

But she wouldn't let it. No matter how much it yearned to. She had just gotten him back.

Calamity Ganon's rampaging soon grew relentless — her strength withstood it, but it took every ounce of herself to hold it back. She realized with dismay that even if she had wanted to, it would have been impossible to divide her mind between containing the beast and guiding Link. The monster wouldn't allow it.

It was one or the other.

 _Curse you!_ she cried, closing a fist against the beast. _You vile creature! How could you?!_

It didn't seem to care; it ceaselessly pounded against her barrier, wicked eyes set on Link, eager to devour him.

There was no alternative. The thought destroyed her, but she knew which she had to choose. It was her duty, after all.

A new set of bittersweet tears ran down her cheeks. Though it nearly tore her to pieces to withhold herself from him, she stepped back from the Shrine to ward off Ganon's might. But she vowed, whenever she managed to calm Calamity Ganon, to catch up with her dear knight, guiding him and ensuring his safe return to her. She couldn't be at his side at every moment. He was strong enough to journey back to her on his own. She knew that.

Beneath the crushing influence of the beast, all she could offer him was this:

 _Link,_ she began. His ears perked up. _You may or may not know me, but know this: you must rise from that Shrine. Find the Sheikah Slate. It will guide you after your long slumber._

Link, listening to her with wonder, found his eyes drawn to the plinth in the corner, which had sprung to life. He stared at it, his thoughts radiant with her voice. A barrage of questions hung on his tongue, but her tone was so earnest, so captivating, that he remained silent.

She continued, _Do not fear what you will face in Hyrule, though trials you will endure — I know you can triumph over whatever will come with the courage flowing through your veins. Link… you are the light — our light — that must shine upon Hyrule once again. We need you._

Her heart stuttered as she prepared to withdraw.

 _I need you. And I believe in you._

 _May the goddess smile upon you._

Just as quickly as she had appeared in his mind, she abruptly vanished, leaving Link stupefied, his bones rattling inside him.

When he regained his senses, he sprung up on the crooked pieces of the pedestal, crying, "Wait! Who are you?!"

But she had already gone.

He quaked in the new silence, the pounding of his head his only companion. She stayed with him, a mute ghost in the room. There was something warm and calming about her sweet, imploring voice — it sent a familiar shudder down his spine. But as much as he strained his mind, he couldn't place where he knew her from.

The memory of her lingered in the back of his head, tickling his brain to remember — it was an itch he just couldn't scratch.

Waking up in such a strange place, with no recollection of what had lead him there, only made his hunger for information grow. And her mysterious presence, not to mention her words, nearly drove him mad in the minutes he sat alone. What did it all mean? Her voice, her guidance, his bizarre bones. He didn't have any answers that he craved...

But she would.

He had to find out who she was. It was time to move.

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 **And ta-daaa! I can't wait to explore this world, and I'm eager to share. I'd love to hear any feedback you may have. And again, come visit me on Tumblr! I'd love to (digitally) hang with you!**

 **'Til next chapter!**


	2. Slated for Release

**Well, that was an awkward hiatus!**

 **After a long wait, here's the update to Corrupted Hero! I had a good chunk of this completed way back when, but my writing schedule got away from me, so here it is in all its glory! I've made this one a tad longer to make up for things. I also wanted to get this one out quick, seeing as I've had some more traffic, recently, so please pardon any errors I made. Thank you! :) You're all fabulous.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

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Link sat for a moment alongside the silence that the voice left him with. Had it the capacity to speak, he would have asked for its advice.

He wasn't sure how he was to proceed, beginning to grow worried in the smoggy, crimson half-light. He knew the voice had instructed him to leave, but as far as he could tell, there was no conceivable way out of the room. No windows, no doors, no locks. The only doorway visible was blocked tight by a wall of pillars, but even then, they didn't appear to be budging anytime soon. It appeared that he was sealed inside.

Squinting at the pillars, he ran his gaze over them, hoping to find a gap or a crack to somehow exploit, but he ultimately found nothing. Distracted for a moment, he traced his eyes along the peculiar embellishments ingrained within the pillars, enthralled at their intricacy, curious about their meaning.

One in particular, however, made him uneasy — at the pillars' center, a large, ornate, unblinking eye hovered, shedding a single tear. His skin prickled, as though the carving was watching him, waiting on his next move. He was afraid it might blink at him while he exchanged mute stares with it.

He didn't linger on the eye any longer than he had to, instead bringing his thoughts toward his situation again. The ancient air flowing in and out of his lungs felt more and more suffocating with each breath — but perhaps that was all in his head. Regardless, he needed to find a way out quickly. He wanted answers, and he knew he wouldn't get any of them just sitting there. He needed to take a closer look around.

Steadying himself on a solid chunk of the pedestal, he slid his legs off and set his bare feet on the cold, smooth stone floor. While he took note of his rather meager clothing — a simple pair of shorts adorned with a few weathered leather belts — he outright ignored the bizarre view of his skeletal toes shimmering up at him. They didn't look natural at any angle; that sight would certainly take some getting used to.

The simple act of standing proved more taxing than he anticipated, however — the moment he attempted to get to his feet, his head rushed and he sunk to his knees with a gasp. Head swimming, he leaned heavily against the pedestal, twisting his eyes shut to steady a bout of nauseating vertigo that swirled his brain into soup.

Thankfully, it didn't last. After a moment or two, the dizzying sensation raging between his ears settled, and he reopened his eyes, heaving himself up with a grunt. Once standing, he held still to balance himself before turning his sights on the reverently-glowing plinth in the corner. Compared to the rest of the objects in the room, it seemed a good place to begin with.

It appeared to be waving him over, flashing with a pleasant blue light. The color felt out-of-place in the angry red fog around him, but that gentle blue made him feel welcome in a way, and he was drawn to it keenly. Padding forward to face the plinth, his face scrunched as he tried to figure out if this was possibly the Slate that the girl had mentioned. Nothing about it signaled to him that it was a slate, but he nonetheless inspected it.

The plinth's flat surface breathed with light, nestling something rectangular at its heart. Huddling in to get a better look at it, Link gave a start when it burst with a sudden shine, slowly pushing part of its surface towards him.

He leaned back, eyes wide as he watched the plinth perform some sort of wordless greeting to him, rotating around via hidden mechanisms that clicked against their age. When it had finished its ritual, the rectangular center of the plinth rose from its niche, presenting an unusual device.

He had never seen it before, and yet, there was something familiar about it.

The device captured his fascination, and he drank it in with awe. Flat on both sides, and roughly an inch thick, the device bore a gripped handle on one end, decorated with twisting patterns that burned like coals. Link watched the device flip itself over to reveal a design on the back: the familiar, disconcerting gaze of the eye with a teardrop leaking from the bottom. Its sclera radiated a shocking blue; it bore into his face, awaiting his hand.

 _A slate,_ Link immediately thought, though he wasn't sure where it came from. _The Sheikah Slate…?_

Only one way to find out. With cautious curiosity fueling his actions, he took a step forward and reached for the Slate, plucking it from the plinth. It was moderately heavy, but manageable, appearing to be carved from the same dark stone as the Shrine. He examined it up close in both hands, turning the eye away from him and meeting a reflection in the shiny, pitch-black screen on its face.

His brows furrowed. Something strange looked back at him from the screen — a trio of harsh golden orbs in the midst of a smudgy, cream-colored complexion — everything blurry and indistinguishable.

"What?" he breathed, drawing the Slate up to his nose, trying to sharpen the image. He honestly couldn't remember what he looked like, but that couldn't have been his face… could it?

He gave a small, startled gasp when the device abruptly came to life in his hands, trilling out a friendly chirp. The screen alight, it displayed the eerie eye symbol for a brief second before the image stuttered and flickered. The chirping issuing from the Slate grew suddenly distorted, resembling more of a dull groan of pain than a greeting.

He gaped at its reaction, half-wondering if he had somehow broken it. Before he had the chance to consider the possibility, he spontaneously convulsed. Something had shifted inside him — a tug in his lungs stole away another gasp, redirecting it and igniting the bones beaming through his skin from a dull magenta to a violent scarlet. Astonished, he shivered in a nonexistent chill and watched as the light coursed down to his claw-like, bony fingers, shining boldly through his fingertips.

He hadn't the faintest idea what was happening to him — perhaps it had something to do with the Slate? he wasn't sure — but it pumped through his body with a gusto that sent his heart bucking against his ribcage. It felt… good, in a way.

As exhilarating as it was, the feeling was fleeting: to Link's split-second horror, a grotesque, twisting mass of sludgy, tangible shadows spawned from out of his hands and attacked the device. A scream ripped out of his throat, shattering the peaceful air. Jolting back, he nearly threw the Slate away from him, but his fingers had locked around it without his control. He shook the device back and forth, but his grip refused to relent.

Helpless, he stared as the grim mire continued to gush from his palms — it bit at his skin with a frigid touch, spreading across the Slate, seeping through hidden seams beneath the ornamental designs. The shadows greedily polluted it, both to his and its panic. The Slate blared a frenzied kaleidoscope of light, screeching beneath his grasp and the darkness forcing its way inside of it.

Throughout the ordeal, the solitary eye on the Slate's screen kept a vigilant watch on Link, despite its rapid color-change from blue to a deep scarlet. The tear dripping from it seemed to have meaning, now.

As he watched the device's blue accents plunge into red, he couldn't help but feel like the eye was speaking to him.

 _Help._

The gaze of the eye pierced him to his core. Shaking, he continued to thrash against his inexplicable death grip on the Slate, until miraculously, he managed to let go. The Slate flew from his hands, spewing sludgy shadows into the air before clattering across the floor and landing with crash against the sealed doorway.

Through ragged breath, he gawked at the Slate, speechless. He slowly brought his eyes into his palms. The sludge was nowhere to be found on his skin; even with the uncontrollable quivering of his hands, he found the light from his bones growing fainter until it settled back to a quiet, magenta glow. He strained to normalize his breathing, all while wracking his brain to figure out exactly what had transpired.

It was almost as if he had infected the Slate. Made it sick. But… with what? Was there something wrong with him?

He had a feeling that was the case, though he couldn't fathom what it was. It made his stomach writhe just thinking about it.

Link's muscles seized up when the floor rocked steeply beneath him, the tremor sending sheets of dust trickling down onto him from the ceiling. His attention was quickly wrenched toward the pillars jammed into the doorway as the gritty grinding of stone met his ears. With a shred of hope brightening his murky mind, he watched the pillars gradually retreat from view into the doorway, revealing an anterior room beyond.

He blinked, amazed. A way out! He could hardly believe it. Eager to escape the confines of the stuffy room, as well as the questions that lingered there, he hurried forward to the open doorway, only to bump his toe on something.

The Sheikah Slate.

His eyes fell on it, effervescing with a new crimson light at his feet. Part of him feared what he had witnessed from it, while the other reminded him of the girl's words.

 _Find the Sheikah Slate. It will guide you._

He hesitated, wary of possibly 'hurting' it again. But how could he harm a machine? It made no logical sense. Biting his lip, he eventually bent down, grabbing it by the handle and looking it over. Apart from the change of color, it appeared undamaged and virtually unchanged; the eye still remained, unblinking, in the center of the screen — no sludge in sight.

The memory of whatever-it-was that had issued from his hands still haunted him. He didn't like the thought of carrying it around — if it was truly inside the Slate. What was it, exactly? And why had it attacked the Slate? Would it somehow break free? What damage could a radical entity like that cause?

Frozen in his spot, he exchanged another stare with the eye for half of a second before a reassuring nudge from the girl's words converted his ambivalence. He had the Sheikah Slate, just as she had said. He needed it to guide him, and he definitely needed all the guidance he could get. As far as he knew, regardless of the strange sludge, it had freed him from the sealed room, bringing in…

Link had been so engrossed in his unrest for the Slate that he hadn't noticed that he was squinting. His eyes rose from the Slate and out the open doorway, where they stung against a shaft of light — pure, warm, summer sunlight — that had shot through the thick haze of the Shrine.

The light stole his breath, dropping his jaw. Something came over him, then, gently sweeping through his body and numbing him. He couldn't seem to blink, his eyes drinking in every second of golden sunlight they could possibly take, like he was starved for it. He had no idea it had been one hundred years since he had seen natural light. Almost as if he were being pulled in by a sunshine riptide, he secured the Slate on a hook on his belt and shuffled forward.

While even the brief exposure he had to the new light warmed his skin and thawed his fears, it seemed to take its time warming up his mind. He was so eager to escape the dark Shrine that he utterly failed to see the object in his path until he was tumbling over it. Cracking his shins against it, his nose and elbows plunged into the floor with painful thuds, the object knocking the wind out of him.

Had he not been so startled, he definitely would have felt embarrassed, but fortunately for his pride, there was no one around. Taking in a wheezy breath, he craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of what he'd tripped on.

Link found himself draped over a lonely chest placed in the middle of the path out of the hazy room. His brows knit together, angry questions flitting through his mind. Who would leave something like this lying out for no reason? What was its purpose?

Gritting his teeth, he eased himself off of it and came around to its front, his nose and shins throbbing. Interestingly enough, the chest lacked a lock.

His curiosity eventually overpowered his annoyance, causing him to stoop down and lift the lid. What he found inside took the glower out of his face, replacing it with surprise. It wasn't anything astounding, only a set of thin, threadbare clothes, neatly folded beside a pair of tattered shoes.

A small smile found his lips. These clothes were better than nothing — especially considering all he had on his person was the Slate and his shorts.

 _How kind,_ he thought.

Link wasted no time slipping into the clothes. While at first a boon, he soon saw they were far from perfect. The pants were surprisingly comfortable in spite of their looks, if not shorter than anticipated, reaching about midway down his shins. The shirt strained against his muscles, coming apart at the seams. He prayed they would hold as he moved around.

Thankfully, the shoes weren't as hopeless as they initially appeared; at least he wouldn't walk out of the Shrine barefoot. Though tighter than he would have liked, the clothes hid a decent amount of his bizarre bones from view. For that, he was especially grateful to whoever had left them there for him.

Now more prepared to leave the Shrine, he quickly left the chest behind, descended a small ramp, and hurried through a colossal, yawning archway guarding a flight of dust-coated stairs. As he climbed, dust motes fluttered by him in the brilliant light pouring through an opening ahead, igniting his pulse and spurring him forward. His breath heightened the nearer he approached the exit. As the light from outside tingled his skin, it burned his eyes, concealing what lay beyond, almost like it was teasing him. But it only made him yearn for the outside even more.

As he climbed, he couldn't explain what he was feeling, but… he felt alive, somehow. Like he was rising from a grave, crawling out of a prison, greeting the world for the first time. Each breath he took only energized his blood — it careened through his veins like lightning, sending jitters up his spine. The sensation was nothing short of exhilarating.

A wide, involuntary grin bore his teeth. He couldn't wait for his vision to adjust. He practically sprinted out of the Shrine and into the light.

The snapping of his shoes against stone was abruptly replaced by the delightful, soft _crunch_ of grass beneath his feet. Grass! What a spectacle! The sound tickled his ears as his legs carried him forward, his eyes finally adjusting to reveal the splendor of the outside world. Undeterred by the adjustment, he quickly set to work taking in everything around him with the tenacity of a lovestruck fanatic.

His eyes flicked about to the waist-high grass whistling in his wake, then to the conifers swaying in the morning wind. He was entranced by their vibrant colors; such gorgeous greens and browns — he felt he had never seen them before. His ears pricked at the sweet warbling of the birds in the boughs, as well as the crickets chirping in the grass, greeting their new stranger. He filled his lungs with the scent of the woods, of tree bark, fresh-dewed grass and mud, of robust pine needles. The crisp breeze brushing against his cheek gave him goosebumps.

Enraptured by the wild, he continued forward, desperate for more. But it was only when he caught a glance of what lay beyond the small glade did he stop dead in his tracks at the crest of a cliff.

The sight made him weak in the knees. A sea of treetops stretched beneath him, underscoring sprawling, rugged cliffsides and rolling hills spreading miles beyond his line of sight. Soft golden sunlight bathed the world in rich greens and painted the distant waves of mountain ranges in slated blues. The wild landscape was breathtaking in its own right, but it only served to frame two distant objects dominating the horizon: a smoke-spewing volcano dripping with glowing veins of magma, and the black, jagged silhouette of a castle, its rugged spires raking the sky.

Gasping from both his sprint and the world before him, he stood, humbled, in his place, his eyes struggling in disbelief. Out of everything he was seeing, Link found himself almost hypnotized by the castle, something tugging at his brain; the castle was a black mark on an otherwise lush landscape, and it seemed to be calling to him. He couldn't pull his eyes from it.

While under its spell, he nearly took a step toward it before a lurch in his gut quickly reminded him that he was standing at the edge of a cliff. Judging from the brief glance he stole over the edge, and the steep drop down, he decided he would admire the castle from a distance. He'd rather not shatter his leg moments after leaving the Shrine.

Now that his heart and breathing were settling down, he found his eyes wandering, and he managed to pull away from the castle's lure. He wet his mouth, dried from his gaping, and drew his gaze across the skyline. The glow of the dawning sun beamed between a pair of twin peaks far into the distance, shining through the split separating them. He lingered on their intriguing formation for a moment, as his eyes were quickly tugged to a structure nearby: the pointed steeple of what looked like a church, just down the hill.

It stood out, grey and dark, amidst the overgrowth it loomed over. Just as the castle before it, he felt something beckoning to him when he laid eyes on it. As much as he was inexplicably desperate to visit the castle, the church was closer. Curiosity gnawed at him; he had to investigate.

Perhaps he might find some answers there?

But before he had the chance to make his way over, Link froze, finding himself seized by an uncanny itch: he felt a pair of eyes trained on him from somewhere. A hidden instinct inside him sprung into action, sending his gaze in search of whoever was watching him.

It didn't take him long to find his silent spectator.

Far below, at the base of the sloping cliff, stood a tall figure. For a moment or two, the both of them exchanged glances before it broke gaze, turning and walking toward a hollow, rocky knoll. Link watched the figure seat itself beside a glowing campfire, where it remained. It didn't acknowledge him any further.

Link hesitated making his approach. Part of him worried about the intentions of the stranger, but the other wanted to make at least some sense of where he was and what had happened to him. The voice from only threw fuel on that flame.

Maybe this stranger could be of some help?

There was only one way to find out. Link smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes and began walking down the hill.

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 **Can you imagine waking up after so long and experiencing the outdoors again? I like to think it would be a magical experience. I hope I captured it well enough.**

 **Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think! Next chapter should be out soon. :) Stay tuned, peeps!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. A Black Look

**It's me, again! Wow, I don't think I've ever written an update that quickly. Go, me! Your support was very encouraging, and I'm so grateful to you for giving my AU a read.**

 **I hope you like this chapter, here - I had to tweak a lot of the Great Plateau to get this to work. Things start happening in this chapter, so stay tuned!**

 **Anyway, I won't ramble. Thanks for reading! I sincerely appreciate it! Pardon any errors, as always.**

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As Link approached the figure seated by the fire, he couldn't help himself from analyzing them. The action was almost involuntary, and he fed his gaze on every scrap of detail he could grasp of them while he made his way over. Without speaking a word, he got to know them in the spanse of a few seconds.

The figure belonged to an old man. A hood concealed most of his face, but Link nevertheless took notice of his broad, sun-browned nose and the snowy beard cascading down the front of his overcoat. Though he was seated, Link could tell he was a rather large man in both stature and from his stocky frame, with layers of dark, heavy clothing bundled tight around his body. He sat amongst a slew of his belongings: a basket of freshly-picked apples, a torch with some flint, and a walking stick he had balanced across his lap.

Happy as he was to see another human being, Link found the man's surplus of clothing strange, as the morning air was cool, gentle, and pleasant; he appeared to be an outdoorsman, so why would he feel the need to bundle up so? Link thought that perhaps the man was trying to hide something. But what? And from whom? As far as Link knew, there was nobody else around but them.

He then began to question the old man's presence. Just what was a man of his age doing out here by himself? He supposed he'd find out shortly.

The old man sat hunched before the crackling fire, gazing mutely into the flames. He seemed to be engrossed in his task, for he paid Link no heed until he was mere feet from him.

Of all the things Link was expecting upon meeting the old man — a friendly face, a grumpy hello, anything — the reception he got was the very last of those. He was about to clear his throat to get the man's attention when his foot met a twig, it giving a snap. The sound wrenched the old man's gaze away from the fire and to Link, spurring a reaction that he was hopelessly unprepared for.

Upon seeing him, the old man's eyes instantaneously widened with horror, and he sucked in a sharp gasp, his jaw dropping and his nostrils flaring. He shot to his feet with an agility that didn't suit him, drawing his walking stick like a sword and shoving it into Link's face.

" _What monstrosity is this?!"_ the old man hissed through bared teeth, inspecting him from head to toe.

Link froze at the man's unprovoked ferocity, tossing his hands up in submission. The fire reflecting in his eyes, as well as his imposing height, made the old man suddenly much more of a threat than before. The man looked about to beat him upside the head with his walking stick. With Link's strength and his youth, he thought he had a fighting chance should things come to that, but without a weapon, he felt defenseless. All that, of course — and the fact that he'd feel guilty attacking an old man — made him hesitant to retaliate.

But if it was in self-defense…? Perhaps he could justify it. In the end, he decided to drop the thought, instead focusing on a means to defuse the situation. He didn't want to cause any trouble.

Unsure of where to begin, he remained silent under the man's volatile glare, only to give another flinch when he growled, _"Speak,_ devil!"

"Devil?!" Link gasped. "What do you mean? I'm Link. I-I think…" That he wasn't entirely sure of, but it felt right. The name sounded perfect to him when the girl had whispered it — it had to be his name.

In spite of that, the old man was less than convinced. "Pah! Don't insult my intelligence, Ganon," he replied with a sneer. Link had no idea what he was talking about, but he could do nothing but listen. "I know the twisted forms you take. And I know Link. He sleeps in the Shrine, awaiting resurrection. You cannot fool me with this… _abomination_ you have crafted in his image. Cease your lies! Reveal your true face, or begone!"

Link's brows furrowed at the man's words — he barked at him like he was some sort of mongrel. Abomination? Could he have been referring to the glowing bones shining through his skin? Granted, the sight had shocked even him, but Link felt that _abomination_ was a bit harsh. He wasn't a monster. As for the Shrine… he knew for a fact he wasn't lying in it at the moment; he was being shouted at while staring down the wrong end of a walking stick.

"But I'm not lying! I _am_ Link," he urged, only to add to the man's ire. "At least, that was what she told me — "

The old man's countenance softened for a moment, catching Link off-guard. The man blinked away some of his anger, his tight grip on the walking stick easing. His voice was considerably gentler when he said, "...She? Who exactly are you referring to?"

Link wished he knew. The reality of his hollow memory crushed him, his shoulders sinking beneath the weight of his longing. Of the thousands of questions suffocating his mind, that was the most burning: what was her name? He'd give anything to know it.

"I don't know," he finally sighed, his cheeks warm under the old man's fiery glare. "I wish I did. A voice came to me in the Shrine — a girl's voice. She woke me up, told me to grab a Slate. She said it would guide me."

As he spoke, the old man's gaze traveled to his hip, where the Sheikah Slate hung. His eyes widened again at the sight of it, growing foggy with memory for a moment, only to inevitably harden. His fuzzy brows knit together, accenting the lines of age and rage in his face. Lips pursing beneath his beard, his knuckles bulged around the walking stick, and he began to shake his head, denying all that he had seen and heard.

Before Link could get in another word to explain himself, the old man spat, "We have nothing more to discuss. If you are truly who you say, then your outward appearance betrays you." Link drew his chin back, aghast. He continued, with a noticeable wilt in his voice, "You are no more Link than I am a king. Good-bye."

With that, he withdrew his walking stick, left Link with a parting scowl, turned, and began walking down the hill.

Link gaped after him, his mind jammed beyond cognition. What an exchange that was. He was hoping to find answers to his questions, not uncover a dozen more. As frustrating and confusing as their conversation had been, Link had a strong impression that there were no other people around he could turn to. It was either facing the old man, or wallowing in his questions until they drove him insane.

He couldn't let an opportunity like this pass him by. He managed to free himself from his bewilderment and gave chase, shouting, "Wait! Please, I don't know what's going on, or where I am, or _who_ I am! I just need some answers! Please?!"

The old man pretended not to hear him, walking undeterred. Even with his aged legs, he moved surprisingly quickly, keeping well ahead of Link. Link followed, nearly sprinting, down the grassy hill and onto a flight of rugged, mossy stone steps — a staircase peeking through the overgrowth. He was so focused on regaining the old man's attention that he scarcely noticed the gradual appearances of weathered, man-made structures emerging out of the greenery.

Still following the old man, he watched him turn a corner marked by a cracked stone monolith laced with vines. Link slapped a palm against the stone to gain some leverage, planning to slingshot around its edge to continue his pursuit. But the moment he came around, he skidded to a stop, his breath catching. He suddenly found himself alone, his only company the monolith, and the bed of rippling grass beneath it.

The old man had completely disappeared.

Astounded, Link tossed his head in all directions, his hair whipping around his neck as he scoured the area for any trace of his unfriendly neighbor. But no matter his search, he found nothing but still, tranquil nature around him. Not a darting shadow between the nearby oaks, nor the scraping of a retreating boot against the weathered bricks underfoot. The old man appeared to have vanished into silence and thin air.

Link was baffled. It made no sense. Where could he have possibly gone? Had he only imagined him? No, that couldn't have been. ...Or could it?

The thought sent a fearful chill up his spine; he suddenly didn't like the idea of being by himself, but not being entirely alone. Who knew what else was out here? Perhaps the old man was the least of his worries, if he had even been real.

But if he didn't exist, then who had lit the fire? The answer, among the many he sought, escaped Link. All the same, his skin prickled as if he were under the scrutiny of a thousand sets of eyes.

Taking another survey of his surroundings, he ground his jaw, now finding himself in need of a weapon — just on the off chance that the old man returned… or something worse. He doubted he'd find much in the way of defense in the glade of apple trees to his left, so he turned his sights on the church up the hill. There might have been something useful lying in its halls.

Mapping his way up the winding path to the church, he set off, all the while keeping a wary eye on the terrain. The scattered remains of old buildings and pillars made for ideal ambush points, so he kept his wits about him, ears piqued for any sounds of movement. He didn't want to get jumped by the old man, should he reappear and decide to carry out his aggression on him.

Link tried to put his strange encounter with the old man out of his mind, but he couldn't seem to shake it. It buzzed through his brain like a swarm of bees, angry and stinging and everywhere. The caustic disgust in his eyes filled Link with a sense of shame. What had he done to deserve that? Yes, the sight of his glowing bones was bizarre and unnatural, but his appearance hardly qualified him as a beast to be slain. He had done nothing to the old man to illicit that sort of behavior, but the way he treated him made it seem like he and Link were sworn enemies.

He didn't understand it, nor did he want to. Sighing through his nose, he pushed away the memory, pressing on. He hoped he'd never see the old man again.

As he made his way toward the church, he took a moment to admire the ruins he had absently stumbled into. They were a mysterious, if not thought-provoking, sight, materializing out of the undergrowth like ghosts. Time had beaten against the once-proud structures and stone walkways and staircases — all now baked and brittled by the sun and splotched with moss, silently overlooking the wild as it reclaimed them into its embrace.

Walking through the ruins instilled some reverence in Link, soothing his anxieties slightly. His mind wandered just as his feet did; he wondered who had once tread these paths, on what errands they had walked, the lives they had lead, their stories. The stillness of the stone made him pause to wonder why such a beautiful place had been abandoned; judging by the lush state of things, nobody had been there in quite some time. Where had everyone gone?

Yet more questions. They never seemed to end. He may not have known what happened there, but he didn't let the thought consume him. He had other engagements — finding a weapon, perhaps a shield, and gaining his bearings. Although he didn't know the answers, then, he would find out in due time. But for the moment, he was the sole, living occupant of the ancient abbey.

At length, he made his way to the final staircase before the church. He stopped himself on the landing, craning his neck back to behold the crumbling facade of the church in its entirety. It seemed to stretch into the sky, yet it crumbled in its efforts — half of the western wall had collapsed, exposing the inner hall and scattering bricks across the grass sprouting through the foundation.

He felt tiny in its shadow, but that didn't stop him from enjoying its classical, sophisticated architecture. The towering middle steeple made for a fantastic centerpiece, and the multitude of arched windows dashed across its faces undoubtedly once held intricate stained glass. Part of him could already picture it in his mind. It was a shame it was in such a state; the church was a ghost of its former self.

Eager to discover its secrets, he swiftly drove himself up the stairs and went inside. The colossal entrance seemed to swallow him, soon washing him in cool shade from the mostly-intact roof high above. The skeletal barrel vault held onto what scraps of the decaying ceiling it could, spilling shingles and framework onto the floor. He found with a strike of intrigue that the church was partially flooded, most likely from a recent storm.

Link tilted his head in awe, breathing in the damp smell of the water as it mingled with the fresh grass and wet stonework. Bits of the roof and supports jutted out from the smooth, mirror-like pond blanketing the entirety of the hall. It glittered in the dappled sunlight. The water perfectly reflected the sky through the broken ceiling, as well as the enormous statue situated at the farthest wall.

He couldn't quite make out what it was at that distance. He had to get a better look. For some reason, he was drawn to it, taking his first steps into the water without noticing how deep it actually was. Frigid water poured into his shoes, but he didn't care — he strode through the pond, casting ripples that drifted across the surface like echoes.

When he arrived, he sent a miniature tidal wave upon the short staircase at the statue's base, his shoes squelching with each step he took to meet it. The statue soared over him, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling, though its dominance was nowhere near as intimidating as the old man had been.

No, the statue was his polar opposite: it portrayed a reverent, winged woman, her pleated dress and gentle, smiling features captured in stone.

The longer Link stood in the light of her smile, the quicker the statue seemed to transform before his eyes. Though her eyes were closed, he nevertheless felt her stony gaze upon him — perhaps it was a trick of the light against her face, but she gradually appeared to sadden, her smile fading.

Link's brow twisted — he thought he was seeing things. Shaking his head, he brought up his fingers to rub his eyes, only… his fingertips didn't meet skin. They met something rigid, almost like bone, surrounding his eyes like a mask.

His stomach dropped. What on earth was he touching? He wasn't aware that he had been wearing anything other than the old clothes and the Sheikah Slate. Curious (if not a tad concerned) he quickly brought his other hand up to his face, fingers investigating.

Things became stranger and stranger the more he prodded his face — his lips were normal, but where his nose should have been, something hard and blunt protruded, and it was lined underneath with a row of sharp points. Were those… were those _teeth?!_ He traveled further up his face, to his cheekbones, only to find that they were just that — edged like _bone,_ lacking smooth skin. Even stranger, he somehow _felt_ the touch of his fingers, though he knew he wasn't touching skin. Almost as if the bone _was_ his skin.

Panicking, he brought his hands up to his forehead, expecting soft locks of his hair. But he found the opposite: a pair of what felt like horns, sprouting from his hairline.

His breath had since accelerated to hyperventilating — he was starting to see stars. Whipping around, he tried to make his way down the stairs to find his reflection in the pond, only to trip over his own feet, plunging face-first into the water.

Sputtering on a mouthful, he lifted himself out of the pond on hand and knee, waiting for the surface to clear. His rampant breathing didn't help matters, fogging the surface; his heartbeat could have rippled the pool all on its own if it thundered any harder. When at last the water settled, the face staring back at him ripped a scream of terror out of his throat.

There was no escaping it — that was his face. _His face._ It was unreal.

He appeared to be wearing a demented masquerade mask crafted from bone, yet he somehow knew that _it was his face,_ spanning from his below his hairline to just above his mouth, where it ended in a line of wicked incisors. His eyes were nothing more than amber slivers of light floating in a pair of slitted, pitch-black eye sockets. Rust-colored hair framed his new face, as well as trailing down his neck in a ponytail, and he was crowned with a set of small horns.

While the sight of his face alone nearly drove him mad, undoubtedly, the most nightmarish aspect of his new face was the third eye set into his forehead — as big as his fist, its cat-like iris gleamed with an evil light amidst sclera black as night, and it moved in-sync with his own two eyes. It lay in a bed of glowing magenta sludge — akin to what had spawned from his hands and infected the Sheikah Slate.

Link reared back, shredding the peaceful atmosphere apart with his screams. They echoed hauntingly against the ancient walls. Heart smashing against his ribcage, he scrambled away from the water, as if fleeing the reflection there would change him. He backed himself up the stairs until he slammed head against the statue.

Wheezing, he brought his knees to his chest, clawing at his face. He ingrained his fingers into the bone, trying to find a gap he could attack — maybe if he just got it off, he would be fine. Yes. All he had to do was get it off. He dug at every corner, unable to get a grip, until his fingertips found the fang-laced edge. There was a bit of a gap to make room for his nostrils, and he foolishly attempted to slide his fingers under it. He quickly regretted it, one of the fangs lancing his fingertip open.

He withdrew his hands with a grimace, watching a fat drop of blood ooze out of his finger. No, not blood — more of the vibrant, magenta sludge. It was inside him. Surely, this was a nightmare. He couldn't look at it. He clenched his hand into a fist as a violent shudder tore through him.

Out of breath, Link promptly fell limp, staring emptily across the water. While his frantic thoughts clambered for solutions, he realized with dread that this was what the old man had reacted so strongly to: a monster in human form, wearing a crown of horn and bone, watching him with a trio of horrific eyes. It suddenly all made sense. His reaction, his hostility, his _hatred._ His words. Abomination.

"Maybe I am a monster," Link breathed. For a moment or two, he began to believe it.

 _No,_ came a familiar voice.

Link nearly jumped out of his transparent skin. The voice had cut clean through his panic like a knife, giving him enough clarity to recognize it.

It was her. The girl from the Shrine. She had found him again. He thought her farewell at the Shrine was her last connection with him, but he was blissfully, wonderfully wrong. He thanked whatever higher powers there were for her timely return — it came not a moment too soon.

Link rocketed to his feet, eager to listen. She spoke again before he had the chance to reply.

 _You could never be a monster, Link. Let me show you what a true monstrosity is. Climb to the rooftop, and you will see._

He did as he was told without question. Whirling around, he leapt off the statue's altar, dunking into the pond with a mighty splash. He waded through the water and out of the gaping hole in the side of the church, scouring the dilapidated outer structures for a way up to the roof. Thankfully for his aching fingers, he wouldn't have to improvise a route up the pillars — a rickety ladder sat perched against a portion of the wall, practically godsend.

Darting forward, he scaled the ladder with ease, arriving at the roof of the church. He carefully climbed the steep a-frame coated in fragile shingles and avoided the collapsing rooftop, balancing his way across the main support beam and towards the church's front. There awaited the central steeple, and at its center, the belfry. That seemed like a decent vantage point for whatever the girl wanted to show him.

As quickly as he could hoist himself up, he rushed to his feet inside the small, square belfry, where he waited, listening, for a moment. Birds chirped in the trees far below, a soft breeze cooling the sweat slicking the back of his neck. While awaiting her voice, he slowly strode over to the empty window panes, peering through them at the wild laid out below. He could see for miles, spotting several landmarks he had found upon exiting the Shrine — the twin peaks, the volcano, and ultimately, the distant castle.

He squinted at it — something seemed off about it. Was that… a light, shimmering in the castle's silhouette?

Just when he was at his most curious, her voice found him again.

 _Try, Link…_ she began, her words trickling into his brain like clear water. _Try to remember. Your memories, they faded during your slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection. You must remember your time from before, if you are to liberate Hyrule from the monster that wishes to devour it._

To his amazement, the light beamed brighter. That had to have been her, trapped within the castle. He knew it, somehow. Part of him died inside at that realization. She was so far away, and in pain, it seemed.

She explained, _You have been asleep for the past one hundred years, awaiting the day when your wounds would heal, and you would rise._

One hundred years?! Link couldn't wrap his mind around it — it didn't seem possible, and yet, the way in which she said it made him believe.

 _That day has finally come,_ she said. _And just as you rose, so did… the beast._

Link's heart skipped a beat as a massive tremor rocked the earth, nearly sending him tumbling out of the belfry. Thankfully, he regained his balance, turning his eyes toward the castle, again. He couldn't believe his eyes when he witnessed a tremendous bank of writhing, vile black clouds surge from beneath the castle, tendrils of glowing magenta light swirling inside them. He knew that color all too well — it sent a shudder down his spine. To his dismay, the clouds consumed the castle voraciously, stuttering her radiance.

Then the clouds began to coalesce into a shape: a monumental shadow of a creature he had never seen, but that nevertheless ignited a righteous petrification in his body. It shot through his veins like ice, twisting his gut and piercing his brain with a powerful dagger of fear.

 _Calamity Ganon,_ she breathed.

It released a demonic, unholy roar that thundered mightily through the land, rattling his bones and sending him to his knees. He dug his fingertips into his hair and groaned in agony as his head exploded with pain, his ears ringing — but he couldn't pull his eyes from the monster shaping itself into fruition in the skies around the castle. It seemed to have a grasp on his gaze, preventing him from turning away. It wanted him to bask in its corrupted glory.

Through his bleary, pain-streaked vision, he recognized its features — the toxic magenta glow cascading along the smog came to two curved points that jutted out of its fiendish jaws. Tusks. Horns. It didn't matter what they were. They still paralyzed him. And trained precisely on him were two blood-chilling, unblinking eyes, golden in their color, but malicious in their radiance.

Calamity Ganon was watching him. He cowered beneath its piercing gaze.

When her voice graced him again, it soothed his raging headache and sent the beast into a retreat. Nevertheless, she warned, _When the beast regains his true power, this world will face its end, and all souls on it will become his. He will consume. Consume everything. And everyone._

Pushed back by his warden, Calamity Ganon offered Link one final stare before her light dispelled him, returning him to the confines of Hyrule Castle. This wouldn't be the final time they saw each other, and it looked forward to seeing him again.

The beast's absence left Link on his knees, soaked in sweat and clutching his head, his breath erratic. He thought his heart would burst in his chest. The thought of facing that monstrosity left him weak, unable to think, and hopelessly afraid. How could she have such faith in him? How could she trust him to do this?

As fear began to chew its way inside him, the girl returned, however briefly, to offer him motivation.

 _Please. You must hurry, Link,_ she plead.

 _Before it's too late…_

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 **So, any thoughts? How do you like my tweaks? I'm having a blast writing this.**

 **Thanks again for tuning in, and keep your eyes open for the next chapter! See you then!**


	4. Ghost in the Machine

**Guess who's back?! It's meeee!**

 **Okay, let me just preface this chapter with how deeply and totally honored I am to have gotten so much support for this story. I cannot thank each of my viewers enough - you really make my day with your comments and support. It honestly is the best fuel for writing a girl could ask for. So THANK YOU! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work.**

 **As for the story goes, I hope you enjoy this update. It's considerably longer, but that's because quite a lot happens, here. The next chapter will be a bit shorter, so it'll take less time to write.**

 **One last thing: I'm going to try my best to get updates out every 3 or 4 days, or so. Keep an eye out!**

 **Enjoy! And pardon any errors, as always.**

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A lifetime seemed to pass for Link as he knelt within the belfry, his body as numb as his brain. In reality, only a few minutes had passed since the girl plead for his help and withdrew from him, leaving his mind as thick and dark as the twisting shadows engulfing Hyrule Castle.

Her return and sudden absence had utterly destroyed him in both mind and body. Were he not so paralyzed before, he would have begged for her to stay with him; moreso then than ever, when he feared his terror of Calamity Ganon would rend him into nothing. But his first sights of the beast throttled his voice. Without saying another word, she suddenly vanished back into its foul clutches.

He wasn't sure how many more times he could bear losing her: it felt as if his soul were being ripped from his body when she pulled her light from him. He physically ached without her, his muscles inexplicably sore, his bones stiff, his head throbbing. She seemed to be the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Looking on toward the castle, he strained to see her light, again, but it never showed. He sighed and leaned his heavy head against the empty window, staring longingly at the tendrils of corruption lacing between the castle's spires. She was in those walls, somewhere, staving off the beast's wrath — and she was facing it alone. Somehow his heart managed to wither further in his chest for her.

As he gazed at the castle, his mind boiled with dread at the memory of what he had witnessed, and what he had been called to do. How could he take on this task, to kill a monster threatening the world — when he was a monster himself? Why did she think he could do it? What about him made him worthy? With the discovery of his appearance, he hardly felt worthy of her grace, let alone the title of hero.

No, he wasn't a hero. He was a monster. The old man had said so. His cruel words blasted back into his head with painful bursts, almost as if they were being shouted at him, again.

His mind swarming with the day's events, Link shuddered at the reality he found himself in. There he knelt, a lone, amnesiac, monstrous fallen hero tasked with slaying an unholy demon. The beast… Even _Calamity Ganon…_ The mere thought of that hellish creature putrefied whatever resolve he thought he had mustered. As the vision of it bled back into his mind, his headache gained its second wind. He pinched his eyes shut, hoping to rid his mind of the image.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, however, he couldn't shake the notion that he and the beast were connected. Their similarities were undeniable — a pair of horns, wicked amber eyes, that magenta glow coursing through their dark bodies… It was an inescapable truth that he was hopelessly outrunning. But their similarities only raised another question.

Why?

Why were Link and Calamity Ganon so alike? He had no idea. He doubted she knew, either. Though the question gnawed at him, it was no use spraining his brain to try and figure it out. He'd only give himself another headache he didn't need.

But of the multitude of questions he didn't have answers to, he did know this: he might not have been able to remember what she looked like, nor even remember her name, but he knew that she believed he could rescue Hyrule from certain destruction.

Whether he was a monster or not, she believed in him when nobody else did. Her faith shone through the distance between them and the darkness of her prison — a fact that filled him with hope. A trembling hope in the face of Calamity Ganon, yes, but hope nonetheless. And where there was hope, there was courage.

That courage began to burn within him as the thought of her light cleared the smog in his mind, steadying his fluttering heart and giving him strength. He couldn't leave her to face Calamity Ganon on her own. She had done so much for him that he absolutely had to offer his help, and that entailed overcoming his fears and rising to the challenge. That would prove easier said than done, but if she believed in him, then he could stand to believe a little in himself.

Right. He knew the path he was to take: he had to leave the belfry, gather supplies, and set out to Hyrule Castle. Whether he was ready or not, it was time to move. She couldn't wait forever.

With a motivating exhale, Link got to his feet, patting away the dust clinging to the knees of his pants. Before he descended the church, he thought he ought to have a look around from his vantage point, mapping places of interest to aid his needs. He roamed from window to window, scanning the horizon, taking mental note of the scattered ponds and clusters of trees dotting the rolling, grassy terrain, as well as the skeletal remains of the abbey below. He would search there first. It might hold something worthwhile.

Before he set out, he gave the castle in the distance one final glance.

"I'm coming," he promised. "Just hold on."

With that, Link left the belfry at his back and skirted along the rooftop, finding the ladder and quickly sliding down. He paused for a moment when he hit the ground, the back of his neck tingling. Something was eating at him — he had to check if he had been seeing things, before.

Slowly, like tiptoeing into the den of a wolf, he poked his head around the wall and laid eyes on the statue at the back of the church. She stood quietly on her pedestal, unchanged, gazing with closed eyes into her glassy pond. When he again laid his eyes on her face, he found that her smile had returned.

It seemed a good omen — it brought a faint smile to his lips, as well.

Now armed with a spring in his step, Link splashed along the rubble and hurried down several staircases, finding himself once again amidst the crumbling figures of the abbey. As he stepped into the first structure, he cast his eyes across his surroundings, wary of movement.

The old man had disappeared near there, and the last thing he wanted was a surprise while his back was turned. Thankfully, his only company was the breeze playing in the grass. With the coast clear, he began his search.

At first, he found very little in the way of supplies. Nature and time had stripped the abbey of any leftovers of civilization, replacing them with skittish wildlife hiding in the undergrowth. Several sun-brittled wooden barrels lay in a few corners, but they were half-shattered and contained nothing. He turned over piles of bricks to uncover moss and startled insects, and scattered butterflies as he went. He peeked under a fallen pillar to discover the scraps of an abandoned bird's nest, a few rock-hard acorns stashed inside. He was hoping for eggs, but the acorns were better than nothing. He scooped them up and continued sifting through the ruins.

Link had scoured four structures by that point, with only a handful of acorns for his efforts. He was starting to lose hope. But it was in the final building that his patience was rewarded; it stood a ways off from the rest of the abbey, beside a plaza with a dried fountain at its heart.

He ducked under a sunken archway and entered the remains of the building. Most of the ceiling had caved in to the interior, making it difficult to explore, but he managed. As he rifled through the fallen stonework, his eyes lit up when he unearthed several chests, each secured with weathered locks. It appeared they hadn't been touched in over one hundred years. Energized at his discovery, he quickly grabbed a brick and smashed his way into them.

Upon examining the contents of the chests, it occurred to him that perhaps this building had once been an armory or a storage facility: each chest contained travel gear, the items worn with time, but in decent enough condition. They would suit his needs for the time being.

He removed from the first chest a wide, battered shield, scratched and flaking with rust. The leather strap at the back was remarkably intact, so he slung it over his back. In the next, a few swords still in their scabbards; the first, like the shield, was striped with rust, but usable. It felt right in his hand, though he wasn't sure how long it would last.

But the second sword left much to be desired — when Link slid it out of the scabbard to inspect it, he found it had shattered over time, the blade only extending a few inches from its hilt. He couldn't do much with a broken sword, and it was too short to use as a dagger, so he left it where he found it.

To his disappointment, he didn't find a bow in the final chest — only an empty, petrified wooden quiver, which he still took — but he did find a series of leather traveler's bags and belts. They were a tad crusted with age, and he had to shake out a few spiderwebs, but they fit around him well and provided him with plenty of carrying capacity.

He took the opportunity to stash his acorns in the smallest bag on his hip. They rattled around as he clambered out of the collapsed building — the sound pleased him, as did his findings. He felt a bit more ready to handle the brave new world. For some strange reason, the weight of the equipment on his back filled him with a sense of familiarity and comfort. But perhaps he just appreciated feeling prepared?

With the treasures of the abbey exhausted, Link looked around for other places to scavenge. He wanted to find as much as he could carry before making his way to the castle. However, he didn't get very far in his search, for something stopped him — his stomach knotted up, giving a low growl. He grit his teeth as a pang of hunger stabbed his gut, his hand automatically flying to his abdomen.

It suddenly dawned on him that it had been one hundred years since he'd eaten anything. The thought was a strange one, and he was amazed his hunger had only reared itself just then. But, knowing his day so far, he was just glad his body was catching up.

Before he found anything else, he needed to find something to eat… and fast. He didn't care what it was, so long as it wasn't acorns.

Thankfully for him, nature was happy to provide. The memory of a nearby grove of apple trees sprung to life in his mind, and he practically tripped over himself to get to them. When at last he arrived, the sight of the trees and the bright, glistening crimson fruits in their branches drove his stomach wild, and he busied himself over the next little while scaling the boughs to pick his fill.

After gathering an armful of apples, he sat himself down in the shade of an old oak, shining the biggest one he had picked on his shirt. He briefly looked it over in his hand before biting into its vibrant, gold-flecked skin. Chewing, he flopped into the tree at his back, relishing in the apple's crisp, sweet flesh dissolving against his tongue. A delicate spray of juice cascaded off of the apple with each bite he took, the aroma tingling his nose, sending his senses into euphoria.

Link sighed and shut his eyes, resting his head against the tree. In that moment, he forgot his fears, his face, and his foes. He was perfectly content in the shade of that tree, tasting life again for the first time in one hundred years.

Satisfying a centuries-long fast, he ravenously gouged out mouthfuls of his apple until only the seeds and stem remained. He cast them aside, grabbing another apple from the pile. After attacking it, too, he spat out the seeds and took up another. As the sun reached its apex in the sky, he ate apple after apple until his empty stomach was pleasantly full.

Relaxing for just a moment more, he seized the time he had to listen to the wind brush through the grove. Crickets chirped in the grass and leaves whispered together overhead, sunlight glittering on the dewy blades. It was hard to believe this peaceful world lingered on the brink of annihilation, but that was all the more motivation to save it from Calamity Ganon.

Link had been enjoying his meal when a chill darted up his neck, breaking his solace. He sat up, glancing around, his hand finding the hilt of his sword. He felt a pair of eyes on him, again, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who they belonged to.

Sure enough, he was right. Link found his guest standing up the hill a ways off, near a plume of smoke rising from a campfire. He recognized the tall, dark, and stocky silhouette of the old man with his walking stick, stood near the spot where they had spoken before. Even at that distance, his face still burned under the old man's hard stare, and it only brought back unpleasant memories.

Link's smile faded to a firm line. He had sought help from the old man earlier, but he definitely didn't want it then. While maintaining eye contact with him, Link opened his travel pack and swept his apples inside it, eager to find another place to scavenge. He thought he'd try one of the ponds he had seen from the belfry — they were plenty far away from there. The old man was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment.

Without acknowledging him further, Link shouldered his pack and strode deeper into the forest.

Truth be told, he didn't hate the old man — he simply wanted nothing to do with him and his cruelty. After seeing his own frightening face, Link could certainly understand the old man's treatment of him, but that didn't make it sting any less. He'd rather avoid being demonized for something he couldn't help; he had enough on his mind to worry about, his startling appearance being one of them.

Link turned his mind away from the old man as he walked between the pockets of shade cast by the trees, birdsong filling his ears. He hoped to find a bow of some sort at the pond, but he wasn't counting on it. Maybe he could fashion himself a slingshot, or carve out a spear from a branch; he needed more weapons besides the rusty sword. Even if he didn't find any other weapons, he definitely hoped to find extra provisions — perhaps some fish, maybe some berries. He'd have to see what the pond offered him.

At length, he emerged through the treeline onto a small hill, overlooking a collection of ponds strewn across a flat stretch of grassland. The biggest pond caught his eye in particular, its surface spotted with lily pads, with a dark island jutting from its furthest bank. The island stuck out considerably amidst the greenery around it, which puzzled Link. Now curious, he slid down the hill and approached the pond's edge, running his eyes over the island.

It was undoubtedly the strangest island he had ever seen, resembling more of an enormous, leaning pillar, totally blackened by age and mottled with moss. He carefully stretched his arm out over the water to touch it, his fingertips meeting cold, smooth stone. Though he struggled to see it for the moss, he found that the island was elegantly embellished, with thick, swirling designs carving deep grooves and valleys in its surface. As he admired them, the decorations jogged his memory. Where had he seen these designs before?

Then it hit him — the Sheikah Slate. He removed it from his belt and held it up to the island, comparing the two. They were both made of the same dark stone and ornamented with swirling patterns — definitely cut from the same mold, or perhaps, carved by the same hands. The Slate lacked the weathering, however, making him believe that the island (if he could call it that, anyway) had sat in the pond for a century.

Now that he had a better look at it, he deduced that it wasn't an island after all, but rather a statue, sinking into the water. What the statue was depicting, he hadn't a clue. He briefly wondered how it had gotten there.

Ultimately, the statue proved a useless curiosity to him, as did the rest of the pond; no fish swam in the water, and there didn't appear to be any plants nearby, other than grass, of course. As he cast his gaze around to find his next scavenging location, his eyes found yet another relic that didn't belong amongst the wild — a long brick wall, spanning as far as the eye could see in either direction.

Link wandered away from the statue and to the wall, confused as to what it was doing all the way out there. He was far from the abbey, and there weren't any other man-made structures nearby. Was the wall meant to keep something out? Or something in? He intended to find out.

He inspected it, watching it shoot off into the distance, curving around and vanishing behind the trees. It was too tall to scale without proper footholds, but he wanted to see what lay beyond it, so he searched for an opening.

The wall, much like the rest of the structures in the area, had seen better days, making finding a break between the bricks rather easy — a short ways away, the wall had collapsed, revealing a gap. Fascinated by whatever was on the other side, Link broke into a jog, his equipment bouncing and clacking with each movement until he reached the opening.

Link had barely rounded the wall's edge and stepped through the gap when his heart dropped into his stomach — his foot had met open air. He choked on a gasp, clinging to the bricks for dear life and wrenching himself back to solid ground.

He hit the dirt, hard, on his backside, where he sat, catching his breath. Scooting forward, he carefully leaned out over the edge of a vertigo-inducing cliff, eyes widening at the plunge he had nearly taken.

That was close. His heartbeat had skyrocketed in a matter of seconds. It wasn't a wonder why the wall was there — the cliff soared so high above the ground that Link _couldn't_ see the ground. A bank of pale, misty clouds clung to the cliffside, obscuring what lay miles below him. He thanked his lucky stars for the wall, otherwise he'd have no doubt become a shattered puddle of bone and muscle at the base of the cliff.

As he paused to recuperate, he came to the realization that he had woken up on a great, isolated plateau. He quite literally had no idea how he had gotten up there a century ago — the cliffs were too sheer to be climbed, even with gear. And considering the words of the girl, he had been injured when he climbed the plateau. How had he managed that?

When he really thought about it, he couldn't fathom how the old man had found his way onto the plateau — even if there were paths up the cliffside, they were no doubt steep and arduous. Neither a wounded man or an aged one could make the hike before they eventually tired and collapsed. Perhaps the old man was more than he seemed…?

All facts considered, then, another thought crossed Link's mind: how was he going to get down to the mainland? Climbing would be suicide. As far as he knew, there was no alternative other than flying down, somehow, but that was impossible.

But maybe there were trails down the cliffside? He needed to take a look for himself to find out.

Though he was firmly planted at the plateau's edge, Link feared a single gust of wind would push him overboard. He gingerly scooted himself across the ground until he felt he had reached a safe distance to stand — near the pond, in fact — and got to his feet on shaky legs.

Before he set off in search of a way off the plateau, he rinsed his face with cool water to calm his nerves. He then followed the extent of the wall along the cliff edge, hunting for any points where he could maybe find a way down. The only possible option was a collection of low, stone walls a significant walk south. He figured they were worth a look. After taking a quick sip of the pond water, he rose and started walking.

Link made sure to give the wall a wide berth — his fear of falling off the plateau, while irrational at the distance he maintained, was still a distinct possibility. He had no idea how stable the ground was beneath his feet; he wouldn't be any use to the girl at Hyrule Castle if he were dead.

While he strode alongside the wall, he ran his gaze over the passing terrain, spotting a familiar sight between the trees on the hilltop: a lone dark figure with a snowy beard.

Link's hair immediately stood on end, his pace slowing. Was the old man following him? Between seeing him outside the forest and then, it certainly seemed to be. Whatever the case, he was abruptly very grateful he had found a sword. Turning away, Link pressed his legs forward and left the old man even farther behind him.

The distant buildings appeared further away than they actually were, with Link arriving in no time at all. At first glance, he realized that they were an annex to the abbey by the church, their architecture similar. However, they were arguably in the worst condition he had seen on the plateau so far, the moss and vines clinging to their pale and disintegrating walls barely holding them together. Sun and time hadn't been kind to the easternmost abbey.

Strangely, Link couldn't seem to find a clear way in. The archways he found in his perimeter search of the area were blocked with rubble and fallen trees — from the inside. He scratched his head, wondering if the abbey's previous occupants were trying to keep something out. Wildlife, maybe? He wasn't sure.

As he checked the final archway, he found it obstructed as well. Interestingly enough, the blockage here was guarded by another sunken, decayed statue like the one he had found in the pond. They were identical in their time-battered states, but this particular statue protruded from the ground at a shallower depth, allowing him to see more of it than just its top.

 _What a bizarre statue…_ he thought, looking it over.

Now that he could take in more of it, he realized just how gigantic it was compared to him. It didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason in its design — it was divided into three distinct sections, its uppermost portion resembling an enormous ceramic pot. The statue's, for lack of a better word, body, curved downward in a bell shape, its ornate rim and stunning patterns on its surface mossy and half-buried in the grass.

Again, he wondered if it was there for decoration. Either way, it was no more than an antique to him. He cracked his knuckles and prepared to climb over the rubble it guarded and into the abbey.

It was then that he heard a noise that killed his momentum entirely — it rang like a ghostly gong in the wind, a nauseous fear blooming in his gut the moment it hit his ears. His heart stuttered in his chest; he felt as if he had heard that sound before, but he knew he never had.

The gritty grinding of stone followed the haunting chime, slowly pulling Link's attention toward the statue. His body seized up in shock as he watched the statue somehow begin to move, its sections rotating independently of each other, separating slightly to reveal the jittery mechanisms inside it.

All at once, a light breathed to life inside it, shining through its embellishments and igniting it with an infamous magenta glow. That light culminated in a single, unblinking eye set in the center of its head. It scanned its surroundings for a brief moment before honing its gaze directly on Link.

He froze under its eye, lungs crippled and heart hammering. He had felt this caliber of fear, before, as he cowered in the shadow of Calamity Ganon. He knew without a doubt that the statue's eye trained on him, as well as the eyes of the beast, were one and the same. The arresting power in those eyes locked his body without his control. All he could do was await an attack he couldn't escape.

Only, the attack never came. At least not to Link. But why hadn't it attacked him? It had a perfect opportunity to do so. But he didn't have time to think on it. No, after staring at him for several eternal moments, the statue suddenly whirled its head and took aim at another person behind him. A thin red beam of light sparked out of its pupil, zeroing in on its target.

Link somehow managed to break free of his paralysis, jerking his head over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whoever the statue was targeting. He found none other than the old man far behind him, utterly immobilized by the statue's reticle glaring between his eyes. He stood slack-jawed, his gaze glazed over with mortal peril, gripping his walking stick with white knuckles.

His shock at seeing the old man snapped Link out of his stupor. He shouted, tossing his hands up in a sweeping gesture, "Hey! Get out of here! You need to _run!"_

No matter his shouts, the old man didn't hear; he remained rooted in his place, too immobilized by threat of the statue to move.

Breaking into a sweat, Link looked between them rapidly, his mind racing for options. If he didn't do something, the old man was as good as dead. But what could he do? It appeared the statue was readying a laser of some sort, and it was bursting to fire, crackling light gathering in its eye.

Link wouldn't have enough time to tackle the old man out of the way. In a freak streak of instinct from deep inside him, he ripped his shield from his back and hugged it against his chest, diving into the line of fire just as the statue released its laser.

He glued his eyes shut against a blinding onslaught of light, bracing himself for the worst. If this didn't work, he prayed his shield would absorb the blast. While midair, a tremendous force collided with his shield, punching it into his sternum and forcing the wind out of him. Amidst a blast of heat, he was shoved backward, smashing into the ground before rolling several times until he skidded to a stop.

When his head finally stopped spinning, he peeled his eyes open and sat up in spite of the pain in his ribs, his eyes immediately on the statue. To his amazement, his spur-of-the-moment idea worked — the beam had glanced off of his rusty shield and right back into the statue's eye. The statue whirred and sparked, its magenta light flashing sporadically until it exploded in a stunning shower of fire and light, a mighty boom shaking the ground.

Link huddled beneath his shield as ashes rained upon him, astounded at his quick thinking. Somehow, it just felt natural. With the danger gone, he scrambled to his feet, turned, and locked eyes with the old man.

Link couldn't immediately name exactly what, but something in the old man's countenance had changed — he looked drained standing there, speechless, clutching his walking stick close to his chest. His eyes sifted through Link's face, and he winced against several scowls threatening to take over his brow. All the same, he couldn't look away from the young man that had rushed to save him so selflessly.

It was quiet for a time until Link asked, "Are you all right?"

The old man jolted back as if Link had shouted at him, causing Link to react similarly. Link was expecting to be reprimanded, but instead, the old man's lips pursed. He gave a mute nod.

They watched each other for a moment or two, Link growing uncomfortable in the silence. In reality, the old man was struggling for words, his mind abuzz with doubt and fear and faith. He wasn't sure how to proceed with his thoughts, ultimately, his hesitation bolstering Link's desire to leave as soon as he could.

For Link, that simple nod was all the thanks he needed — and all that he was going to get. He bowed his head, clenched his fists, and bade the old man goodbye.

"I'm glad you're safe," he murmured, before turning on his heel and beginning to walk away.

He hadn't made it two steps before a weary voice called out to him.

"Link..." the old man said.

Link stopped mid-stride, casting his head over his shoulder, astonished that the old man had actually spoken to him by name. Words escaped him when he caught a glimpse of how sorrowful the old man now appeared. His dark eyes were clouded and gloomy, his shoulders slumped, a deepset frown highlighting the wrinkles in his face. He suddenly appeared to be well over one hundred years old.

The old man continued, his voice low, "I… I have been unfair to you. I apologize for my rash behavior, and if you would allow me to do so, I would like to make it up to you."

Link gaped at the man's offering; he was actually showing him kindness. He could hardly believe it.

He listened in awe as the old man proposed, "I would like to invite you to my cabin nearby for a meal. Accompany me there, and I will answer any questions you have."

Link blinked at the prospect of that, his interest piqued.

"Is that something that would interest you?" the old man wondered.

Link replied with a nod. "Yes. Please."

It was then that a weak smile curved the corners of the man's lips, a faint light finding his eyes.

"Very well, then. Follow me."

* * *

 **Hoo boy, what a chapter! It was a joy to write - the Guardian scene especially. I remember my first visit to the abbey... Link handled it a lot better than I did. :)**

 **Anyway, thanks again for reading my work. Let me know what you think! Until then, I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	5. The King's Blessing

**And she's back! Hey, again, everyone! I am soooo excited to present this chapter. Sorry if it took longer than expected - I didn't realize how beefy this part of the story would get until I finished it.**

 **Let me say, though... I didn't realize how sad this one was going to get. Like, I got a little choked up. I hope it resonates with you as much as it did to me.**

 **Again, I just wanted to thank everyone for reading _Corrupted Hero_. We've only just started, but things are going so well, I can't wait to keep going!**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

The walk to the old man's cabin was, in a way, peaceful. Gusts of wind rolled through the sunny, grassy plain, blowing at their backs and pushing them along the easternmost stretch of the plateau. As they passed between the aspens and boulders dotting the landscape, they were both inwardly relieved to be leaving the old abbey, and for the same reasons; Link was eager to finally have some answers to his questions, just as the old man was ready to find answers to his own. They had much to talk about, and they wasted no time in their march to the cabin.

While the walk itself was pleasant, it wasn't without its rigid, awkward silence; it hung in the air like a fog between them, thick enough to run your fingers through. The old man walked an arm's length away from Link, and, apart from his initial invitation, said absolutely nothing to him, his eyes set straight ahead. He kept his gaze averted from Link, but Link's glowing yellow eyes wandered to the old man, getting another look at him.

He hadn't changed since they first met — albeit he was a bit shaken — but Link abruptly took notice that the old man didn't use his walking stick to aid him as he moved. He instead held it close to his person, off of the ground. Link found that his gait wasn't hindered by a limp or old age. Perhaps he used the stick for self-defense? He ended up dismissing the thought; he figured it didn't matter all that much.

But before long, the silence grew unbearable. Link thought he'd break it with his first question.

Looking over his shoulder at the smoking crater far behind them, he asked, "What was that thing? I've never seen anything like it."

The old man's reply was delayed, but he eventually answered, "That was a relic from an age long passed. I didn't think there were any active Guardians left on the plateau, but it seems I was wrong. Hopefully, that was the last of them."

Link cocked his head, the name tickling his brain, though he couldn't pinpoint why. "Guardians... What exactly are they?"

Instead of giving him a straight answer, the old man responded with a question of his own. "Well, what do _you_ think they are? From your experience. You found two — one at the pond, the other at the abbey. Tell me what you think. I'm curious."

Link, scrunching his brow, explained it the only way he understood, saying, "They looked like statues, worn by time. But I've never seen a statue moveof its own accord like that. Like it could think for itself. It was… alive, almost."

A thought breezed through Link's mind as he said that aloud: perhaps it was somehow Calamity Ganon's doing, bringing the statues to life? He knew undeniably that the beast had watched him through the Guardian's eye. The fear that had struck him was unforgettable. He then began to wonder, too, if the old man knew of Calamity Ganon. He'd ask him later.

"Indeed," the old man agreed, much to Link's surprise. "Though it may be difficult to believe, the Guardians were crafted by human hands many ages ago. They are not statues, but machines — mechanical warriors that move autonomously, ready to aid their masters at a moment's notice. Over one hundred years ago, the Guardians roamed Hyrule freely, offering protection to the people across the land. Repulsing monsters, standing guard at villages, patrolling roads — they were built to protect, and they did it exceptionally. Now, they are scattered across Hyrule, some still mobile, others broken down, yet ever vigilant."

Link, awed by the old man's words, listened intently. But something was bothering him. He wondered, "But if they were made to protect people, then why did that Guardian attack you? Was it malfunctioning?"

"...In a way, yes," the old man shrugged. "But I cannot explain it in such simple terms. No, to understand the full truth, you must know what happened one hundred years ago." Link's ears had just perked up when the old man continued, "But I'd rather not discuss it here. I think you may want to be seated when I tell you. With your memory being as fragile as it is, I fear the truth may overwhelm you."

"And why is that?"

The old man finally turned his head to face him, his aged eyes brimming with grief. "It pertains to the desolation wrought by Calamity Ganon… More importantly, how it razed Hyrule to ruin, and possibly, how you became the creature you are now." The old man looked him in the eye for a few seconds before wrenching gaze away, his lips pursing.

So he did know the beast.

A chill darted through Link's blood at that. There was that word, again. _Creature._ He tried to fight it off, but their first meeting reared its head once more in his mind, bringing with it the words that had crushed his hopes. Monstrosity, devil, abomination... and the scorn in the old man's eyes. He couldn't escape the image of the beast that polluted his mind, then. His gaze wandered down to his hand, to the bones glowing through his transparent skin.

He ground his jaw, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I see," he croaked.

Another silence followed, undertoned by their feet against the grass. Even if he had seen Link's reaction, the old man paid no heed to it. After a moment, he murmured, "Come. We're nearly there."

They walked on in silence for a short while before Link spotted the silhouette of the cabin through the aspens. Rounding a small knoll, they came around to the dirt-clod courtyard. In many ways, the cabin resembled the old man himself: it towered over its surroundings, weathered, aged, and rough, relying on a piece of nature for support. In the cabin's case, it was a rugged boulder, composing the southern wall and holding up the logs bound together with thick rope. An overturned log sat by a charred fire pit equipped with a cast iron cooking pot, all near the empty doorway into the cabin.

The old man paused in the courtyard, Link coming to a stop beside him. He didn't so much as glance at Link when he gestured with his walking stick to the log by the fire pit, inviting him to make himself comfortable.

"Please, have a seat," he said. "I will be out shortly. Then, we will talk." With that, he turned and trudged into the cabin.

Link did as he was told, but not without his spine stiffening. He seated himself on the log, hanging his head and staring into his hands. Eager as he was to finally have some answers, he was beginning to grow anxious of this meeting, expecting the worst. Part of him believed that the old man would help him — after all, he seemed apologetic after Link saved him from the Guardian. But all the same, something about the old man didn't feel right — even with his apology, Link still could sense his constant scrutiny and caution. In the end, Link supposed he'd have to hope for the best and see what came of it.

The old man emerged from the cabin a few moments later with a woven basket in his arms. Bringing it to the fire pit, he knelt and began unpacking its contents: a chunk of flint, a small pot of water, two bird's eggs and a bundle of rice, a wooden spoon, and a single ceramic bowl.

Link looked over the ingredients, confused at the small portion sizes. "Won't you be eating, too? I'd... hate to have you cook just for me."

As the old man struck sparks onto the firewood, he replied, "Perhaps later. I am not terribly hungry at the moment." He then added with a sheepish shrug, "...I hope you like eggs and rice. I'm not much of a cook, myself — this is all I know how to make. It's a wonder I've made it this far, really."

Link chuckled a bit, watching small ribbons of fire burn to life on the blackened firewood. Even with his feast of apples before, his stomach turned in anticipation. "That sounds wonderful, actually. Thank you very much… er..."

Something then dawned on Link: he didn't even know the old man's name. In their interactions, it had never occurred to him to ask it.

He bit his lip, saying, "I'm sorry, but I just realized I never found out your name. Yet... you somehow knew mine. Tell me, what is it? I wanted to thank you properly for doing this for me."

After pouring the water and rice into the pot, the old man turned his head to face him, offering up a wan smile. "Polite as always. I knew you had forgotten me, Link," he said, the warm familiarity in his voice a complete tonal shift. It left Link stupefied. "I simply failed to realize how faded your memories would be after your hundred-year slumber."

Wait — how did he know that? Link had heard that from the girl, before, not the old man. Before Link could prod him for more information, the old man provided him with the answers he had been seeking.

"But enough riddles. I suppose the time has come to show you who I truly am. I have kept you in the dark long enough."

Link leaned back, eyes wide. The old man rose to his feet, and Link couldn't help but follow. Collecting his thoughts, the old man turned his eyes to the sky, where they rested for a moment, gazing into nothing. His eyes swam with memories and tragedy and time.

Finally, he began, "I was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule. I was… the last leader of Hyrule." His eyes then sank into the ground, his voice faltering. "A kingdom which no longer exists."

A sudden burst of light seared Link's eyes as he watched the old man. Bizarrely enough, it seemed to gleam from the old man himself. Link brought his hand up to shield his eyes, twisting them shut with a grunt, but the light faded as quickly as it came on. Puzzled, he reopened them, only to discover that the man in front of him had completely transformed.

His jaw dropped, and he let out a gasp. The old man's dark overcoat and hood had melted away to reveal a tall, broad man dressed in a stately blue coat trimmed with gold. A naggingly-familiar, triangular crest adorned his shining belt, with a winged, gold crown encrusted with rubies topping his head, poised above a billowing cascade of snow-white hair. A familiar beard poured down his chest, his entire body alight with a pale, ethereal glow. Wisps of ghostly flame flickered around him, and he hovered effortlessly a few inches above the ground, looking down on Link through exhausted, crystalline-blue eyes.

Link suddenly lost strength in his legs; he sunk into the log, stunned at the sight before him.

"You're… you're a spirit," he breathed. "All this time… You weren't really there." That certainly explained the old man's disappearance, as well as his inhumanly-swift movements. Link thought he was hallucinating for a moment, but no matter how many times he blinked, the apparition before him remained.

"In body, no, but in spirit… yes," King Rhoam replied with a nod. "I knew you would not recognize me in my true state, so I thought it best to assume a temporary, simple form. I hope you can forgive me for lying to you. No, one hundred years ago, when the Great Calamity ravaged our beloved Hyrule to dust… it was then that my life was taken away from me." Shadows bloomed beneath his eyes, and his shoulders fell. "And since that fated day, I have remained here, in spirit form — doomed to walk the burning fields, to watch my kingdom crumble into nothing, powerless against the merciless march of time..."

Goosebumps erupted over Link's skin. "What happened?" he gasped. "How did it happen? H-how could it?"

Rhoam tilted his head pensively. "I've asked myself that very question for one hundred years, exhausting my mind with every possible action, every change we could have made. In the end, we did everything we could to avoid the impending catastrophe, and yet, our efforts were for naught," he sighed. "We did not learn from our land's history, and were thus fated to repeat it… with bloody consequences."

Link, growing more and more numb with each word, found his mind squirming with the King's words as he spoke. He could hardly breathe — all he could do was listen, enraptured by the history of a land he couldn't remember.

The King began his tale, "I was always a skeptical man, even in my childhood — I didn't believe in the fairy tales that were so oft spoken throughout Hyrule. No, the stories of a knight chosen by a sacred sword, of a princess blessed with a sealing power, and their conflicts with a demon king... they were fantasy to me. Bedtime stories. In all my years as King, I never thought such stories would walk off their pages and into my reign. That was, until I heard the prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Link repeated.

"Yes, a prophecy passed down through the Sheikah tribe from generation to generation, imparted unto me by a young Sheikah, Impa."

The King then recited from memory the words of a dark divination, making Link's skin crawl, "'The signs of a resurrection of Calamity Ganon are clear: the earth will shake and travail, spawning hordes of restless monsters, howling and terrorizing beneath the rays of a bloody moon. The power to oppose the beast lies dormant beneath the ground. Find it, and Hyrule will be set free.'"

Link listened, transfixed, as the King went on, "I thought it to be no more than another legend, but as the signs began to manifest themselves, I took heed, and ordered mass excavations all throughout Hyrule. It wasn't long before we discovered a treasure trove of ancient relics, preserved for us by our distant ancestors."

"The Guardians?" Link interjected, pieces of history clicking together in his head.

"Indeed," the King agreed. "And we found yet more. In addition to our armies of Guardians, we also unearthed four colossal machines from each corner of the continent. They were the Divine Beasts: Vah Ruta, Vah Rudania, Vah Medoh, and Vah Naboris, each named after a legendary figure in Hyrule's vast history, piloted by champions of old. These Divine Beasts, as well as the Guardians, coincided with a ten-thousand-year-old legend whispered over time, and we relished in our findings with fascination. It was clear that we were meant to follow the path of our ancestors."

"So you found the Guardians, the Divine Beasts… what happened then?" Link asked.

He responded, "We then selected four skilled individuals from across Hyrule, and tasked them with piloting the Divine Beasts, each chosen for their devotion, vigilance, confidence, and spirit. Just as they rose, so did the princess with the sealing power, as well as her appointed knight with the sword that seals the darkness. With the princess as their commander, we dubbed these individuals Champions — a name that would solidify their unique bond. And so it was, our vanguard against calamity, awaiting the hour when they would seal the beast away…

"But nay…" Rhoam sighed, his eyes closing, visions of that dreaded day burning within his mind. "Ganon was cunning, and he responded with a plan beyond our imagining. We were paralyzed to react as he bursted out from deep below Hyrule Castle, sending out his vile claws to seize control of the Guardians and the Divine Beasts. One by one, our mechanical allies were infested by his Malice, and turned against us.

"They devastated villages to skeletal ashes, annihilating every soul in their path with a voracious appetite. The Champions were slain within their Divine Beasts, and the appointed knight, gravely wounded, was stricken down while defending the princess. Like a fell flood, the Guardians surged through the doors of Hyrule Castle, purging its halls of all life in a matter of minutes. My guards, Hylia rest their souls, protected me to the death — they were incinerated in their armor, leaving me cornered in my own throne room at the cruel mercy of a corrupted Guardian…"

Rhoam reopened his eyes and gazed at Link, who had gone completely cold. "With a single beam of deadly light, my life was snuffed out, along with the lives of thousands of innocent people across the land. Within the spanse of an afternoon, the kingdom of Hyrule was devastated absolutely."

Link shuddered, his bones rattling and his mouth hanging open. He thought that to be the end, but the King continued, his voice weak, "However, in spite of everything… the princess survived. And amidst the dead strewn in the streets, she made her way to the castle to face Ganon alone. It was she who halted the Great Calamity in its tracks, stifling the beast's wrath, imprisoning it for the coming century."

The King's spirit dimmed for a moment, his head hanging. His hands rolled into fists. "That princess was my own daughter…" Rhoam lamented, his voice breaking. "My dear, sweet Zelda…"

Link's heart gave a heavy thump at the name and he choked on his shallow breath. Hername. Zelda. Princess Zelda. He finally knew it — the name belonging to the gentle voice that had reached out to him in his time of need. It brought a comforting warmth to him after hearing of the fall of Hyrule. It was fitting name — as soft and beautiful as the grace she so readily gave him.

His mind was so unraveled at the revelation of her name that he nearly didn't hear Rhoam's next words, but he snapped back into reality just in time.

Rhoam continued, "And the courageous knight, who tore through legions of Guardians to protect her to the very end… that knight was none other than you, Link."

Link, astonished, took his chin back, his eyes widening. _"Me?_ I was Zelda's knight?"

"Indeed, and you were Hyrule's finest, hand-picked from the ranks of the royal guard when I witnessed firsthand your heroic prowess." Rhoam's eyes clouded over as he thought back on a distant memory. "It was during a field test of a Guardian — even our brightest minds struggled to make them move, and in a freak accident, the Guardian unleashed a volley of powerful beams in every direction."

He smiled at Link. "Thankfully, you were there. Had you not been, I would not have lived to see the day I appointed you as my daughter's knight. Everyone ducked and scattered, but I was distracted. As a Guardian beam sailed toward me, you scooped up a pot lid — " the King paused, chuckling, " — a humble pot lid of all things, and leapt before the beam to deflect it away from me.

"When I saw you perform the very same act just now, I knew you were the knight I had chosen for my daughter, though your appearance said otherwise." He looked Link from head to toe where he sat, making him shift a little.

"Now, I have answered your questions. You must answer me this," the King began lowly; Link straightened, listening. "When you emerged from the Shrine of Resurrection in your current state, I believed Ganon to be toying with me. When we parted ways, I went back to the Shrine, to see for myself. I found the Shrine in shambles, aglow with an evil light and its sole occupant missing." His eyes tightening, he prodded, "Tell me, how did this happen? Why are you thus?"

Link, sweating beneath the King's stern gaze, grasped at whatever explanation he thought he might have had, but found nothing of worth. He didn't know why he had woken in his monstrous form, but he had a suspicion it was Ganon's doing. After all, their glaring similarities were apparent to even the passive eye.

He sighed, cupping his palms around the jagged, bony mask enshrouding his face. "I'm sorry, King Rhoam," he murmured. "But... I don't know. I can't remember what happened during the Calamity, what Ganon did… but I would give anything to find out." He brought his trio of eyes up to the King, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know why I'm a monster."

The King frowned, his hopes dashed. "I feared as much. Though I initially believed you were nothing more than a beast, I see now that I was grossly wrong. Link," he said firmly, capturing the young man's gaze. "I offer up my sincerest apologies for making you feel like such a mongrel. I hope you can grow to forgive me and my poor judgements.

"I see now that you not are a monster; you are far from it, in fact. However, I worry that you could descend to become one, should you let Ganon overshadow you. It appears he has somehow managed to worm his way inside of you, and into the Sheikah Slate as well. Though you carry him with you, you cannot allow him any more dominion than he already has. If you do, Hyrule is doomed."

Hearing those words from the King himself both filled Link with hope, and curdled his blood. Spine shuddering, his fingers automatically clenched into fists, and he brought them close to himself, body stiff and heart thudding. His stomach writhed against the reality that Calamity Ganon was _inside him._ Part of him wanted desperately to throw up, but his rational mind knew there would be more to purging the beast from his body than that. The thought of it was nothing less than torture.

Link finally asked, his voice shaking, "What do you suggest I do, my King?"

Rhoam sighed. "Considering that I could not save my own kingdom, I have no right to ask this of you, Link… but you must finish what was started one hundred years ago." Link gazed earnestly into the King's eyes as he gave his advice. "Kill the source of Malice, do whatever it takes to annihilate Ganon, and erase his blot from you, and our fair land. Perhaps then, his hold over you will fall, and you will be cleansed. But you mustn't rush the castle, now — it would be suicide. It would be best for you to prepare to face him, first."

The King drifted to the side, pointing a finger beyond the cabin. Link followed, his eyes falling on the twin peaks far off from the plateau. "I suggest you make your way east, out to one of the villages in the wastes. Kakariko Village, home of the Sheikah. Follow the road north — there you will find the elder, Impa." His voice softened at the mention of her. "Impa is an old friend, and one of my most treasured advisors. She will tell you more about the path that lies ahead of you. Should you get lost along the way, I trust your Sheikah Slate will guide you. I could never make sense of it, but before the Calamity, you and Zelda traveled Hyrule with it at your sides."

Link's hand found the Slate as the King spoke. It suddenly had more meaning to him. He'd keep it close, even if it had been corrupted by Ganon.

With his journey laid out before him, Link had one final question. "Thank you for the guidance, King Rhoam," he began, bowing his head in respect for the spirit. "But do you… happen to know a way off the plateau? I couldn't seem to find a way down, myself."

The King smiled again. "I admire your dedication in the face of adversity, Link. You haven't changed in that regard. Come, join me in the cabin. I have the solution you seek." Turning, Link followed Rhoam as he drifted across the courtyard and through the empty doorway of the cabin.

When they stepped inside, Link's eyes were overwhelmed, flying everywhere at once. It appeared, while in the guise of the old man, that Rhoam had been gathering supplies from across the plateau. Tucked into every possible corner and placed on every shelf and table were bundles of mushrooms and truffles, baskets of apples, smoked fish hung on hooks on the walls, even weapons and shields laid about: woodcutting axes, rusted broadswords, spare pot lids and age-crusted shields.

"I gathered all of this for you, Link. I wanted to be of use to you when you woke from your slumber," the King said as he floated above his collection. Link's breath caught, amazed at his kindness. Rhoam gestured his arms around the cabin, continuing, "Before you leave the plateau, feel free to take anything you wish, just ensure you take these above all else..."

From beneath a rickety bed in the corner, Rhoam removed two objects for Link. He presented them to him, neatly folded in his ghostly hands. At the top of the pile sat a black hood with a small cape fluttering at the back. Beneath it, a broad sail crafted from cloth and sturdy wood and rope, emblazoned with a winged crest.

"A paraglider…!" Link gasped, stunned by the simplicity of its design. With it, he could effortlessly glide from plateau to the mainland below. He wondered why he hadn't thought of that sooner. As for the hood, he was even more grateful — it would help to hide most of his frightening face from view of others.

Link looked up from his gifts to the King, beaming with gratitude. "My King, I… don't know what to say."

Rhoam looked upon him with a new, shining hope in his eyes. "You needn't say anything, Link, but say what you will through your actions." His brows knit together. "Make me a promise here and now, that with these tools, you will journey into Hyrule, free the Divine Beasts from Ganon, and deliver Zelda out of his clutches. Promise me that, and my soul will be eased."

Link gave a firm nod. "I promise."

A relieved smile found the King's lips. For several moments, they fell silent, the only sound the wind through the grass outside. Eventually, the King locked eyes with Link again, only then, his eyes had fallen solemn.

"You said before… that you heard her voice," he began, his voice feeble. "I haven't heard her voice in one hundred years. Tell me… how is she…? My Zelda?"

Link's mouth firmed into a line. "As brave and faithful as she ever was, but… she sounded weak. She needs help."

"Her power must be waning," Rhoam said. "Then you mustn't delay." His posture visibly wilting, he then implored Link, "Please. From a hapless King and a failed father, please… you must save her… my daughter."

"I will," Link stated.

"Though you may not remember who you once were, remember this: you are our final hope, Link," Rhoam said, staring him straight in the eye. "The fate of Hyrule rests with you."

Then, in a shimmering sigh of light, the last king of Hyrule faded into nothing before Link's eyes, leaving him alone.

Link stood in the cabin for several moments, King Rhoam's face still in his mind. He clutched the paraglider and hood, his body shaking without his control. Swallowing a lump of anxiety in his throat, he cast a glance around the cabin's stock, taking mental note of all that he'd be taking with him.

Before he stocked up for the journey off the plateau, Link stepped back outside, shakily striding over to the log and setting down the hood and paraglider. He was about to slip the hood on when something caught his eye, stopping him in the act.

There, on the log, sat a single ceramic bowl filled with fluffy white rice, and topped with two golden, gooey, over-easy eggs, a spoon draped across them.

Link smiled.

* * *

 **And so ends chapter 5 of _Corrupted Hero._ I had a ton of fun adapting this part of the story. It's so freaking sad! **

**Anyway, join me next chapter as Link finally sets out into Hyrule. What awaits him there, we don't know. But we'll soon find out!**

 **Let me know what you think! Thanks again for reading my work! See you next chapter!**


	6. A Sight for Sore Eyes

**Welcome back, friends, to _Corrupted Hero._ I hope you enjoyed the last chapter - I can't wait to present this one! Link finally makes his journey out into Hyrule. What awaits him there? R** **ead and find out!**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

As Link secured the last strap of his bulging travel bag, he paused and took a final look around the cabin. Though he hadn't been there for long, he was a bit sad to be leaving so soon; the lingering memory of King Rhoam still clung to cabin's walls, the familiarity there making Link feel at home.

Those walls were mostly barren, now — a sight that left him with an odd mix of security and loneliness. Now that he had cleaned the place out, it seemed as though Rhoam had gone with it, leaving the cabin as nothing more than an abandoned, lifeless structure in the woods.

All the same, Link appreciated his new belongings. The food was a blessing; he couldn't wait to dig into his smoked fish that night for dinner. And he certainly felt more prepared to face the dangers of the wild with his new axe, the rusted swords, and his extra pot lid "shields." Though he had gone, the ghost of King Rhoam had generously given him the first steps he needed to set out into Hyrule, and for that, he was deeply grateful.

Seated on a tree stump by the dining table, Link took one last stock of his bags, three in total, laid at his feet. In spite of the anxiety swirling in his gut, he felt ready to journey off of the plateau with everything he had. What he'd find out there, he wasn't sure. All he had left to do was shoulder his supplies and find out.

Fastening the clasp on his new hood, he set to work hoisting his bags up by their weathered leather straps. The weight of it all on his back was decent, yet workable — he knew he wouldn't have trouble traveling. Before he left the cabin altogether, he rinsed out the ceramic bowl and spoon in the courtyard and tucked them in with his rations. Paraglider in-hand, Link left the empty cabin at his back and walked through the grass to the rugged edge of the plateau.

It was time.

A kickup of wind cleaved around him as he stood on the edge, looking out over the mist below to the mainland. It was so close, and yet, felt so far. He bunkered himself against the wind whipping at his hair, his jaw glued together and his heart fluttering at the imposing height he was about to leap from. Even with the paraglider, he felt unstable, teetering on slipping.

But the sooner he jumped, the sooner he'd feel better — at least, that was what he kept telling himself. He wasn't looking forward to doing this, but it had to be done if he was to help Zelda.

The thought of her inspirited him with courage from nowhere. Swallowing his fear, Link took a few steps back, gripping the paraglider above his head with white-knuckled fists, sucking in a breath and holding it. After hesitating for only a moment, he took off at a sprint toward the ledge, kicking off of it before dropping like a boulder into the mist clinging to the cliffside.

A scream lodged itself inside him as his stomach rocketed into his throat. He fell, wind howling around him, for several breakneck seconds before his arms tightened, bending the paraglider into position — the wind snagged in the sail, slowing Link's rapid descent with a firm _thwack_ that whiplashed his head into his pack.

Though still falling, his head spun at the realization that he was now safely adrift on the air. A nice alternative to plummeting to his death, yes, but even so, a wheezy groan of panic squeaked out of him, his face frozen in terror. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out. Heart galloping in his chest, he clung to the paraglider for dear life, watching his feet dangle above the scenery growing closer and closer below. Even if he had the fortitude to steer his descent, he wouldn't have wanted to, for fear he would lose his grip. Thankfully, there were no trees in his flight path to crash into. He simply held on, praying a rogue gust of wind wouldn't send him careening back into the plateau.

When he finally glided down to an open field on the mainland, his legs buckled worthlessly beneath him, and he tumbled to the ground in a heap. Solid ground! He was glad that was over. He let himself lie there, smashed beneath his packs — over the course of a minute or two, he slowly regained his lucidity, taking in the smell of the grass and listening to the crickets chorusing nearby. Breathing deeply in and out, he finally got ahold of his resolve and shakily eased himself up, looking around.

At last — Hyrule. He felt abruptly insignificant amidst the vast, overgrown landscape spreading endlessly around him in all directions. Far across the flowing hills crowned with small forests and the low clouds hugging the horizon lay the silhouettes of Hyrule Castle and the volcano, as well as his destination: the twin peaks. Standing, he gauged the distance by eye — the walk over to them wouldn't prove _terribly_ long. He definitely wanted to make it there before the day was out.

Casting a glance to the sky, he noted that the hour was sometime in the late afternoon, the sun a halfway down from of its apex. He didn't want to risk traveling around at night with the little bearings that he had — he needed to get moving. Shaking off some residual adrenaline from the glide down, he folded up the paraglider and slid it onto his back. After pulling his hood over his head, he turned toward a dirt road a short walk down a hill, and set off following it north toward the peaks.

Now that he was on the ground, Link took the time to fully appreciate just how colossal the great plateau was. It loomed above him a distance off, an impenetrable titan dominating the local terrain. Through the halo of haze surrounding it, he ran his eyes over the crumbling stone bastions dripping from its ridged faces, dissolving into piles of rubble at the plateau's base. He could barely make out the church at the top; it was smudgy at that distance, yet its steeples were recognizable. He wondered if he'd ever see it again.

Part of him wanted to. The peace he had felt there had taken his breath away. However, the church had also been the place where he had first witnessed his new face. He'd give anything to forget the all-encompassing horror that had overcome him at that moment.

Oh, the thought of his face… His wicked, shocking face. It made his stomach twist. As his shoes scratched against the dirt road, he brought a hand up to feel his bony mask, running a finger over the fangs lining it. He remembered King Rhoam's reaction to it in stark detail — judging by his reaction, Link wasn't looking forward to facing other people. He figured the hood would disguise him well enough from a distance, but up close was another story. He prayed he wouldn't send the people of Kakariko screaming before he had the chance to ask for their help.

But he supposed he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

Link was so lost in thought that, before long, the trail around him began to change without him noticing. His brows crinkled — he felt as though he were shrinking, the banks of grass at either side of the road sloping up drastically. The rightmost bank crescendoed into a broad, lofty hill with a dilapidated building at its crest, and up ahead, the road cut off and split into two. He wasn't sure what awaited him at the juncture, and he didn't want to get himself lost — he thought it best to climb the hill to get a better view of the area.

Taking a detour, Link scaled the lumpy hill, coming to face the sagging brick building at the top. It appeared to have once been a lookout point, but it had since fallen into disarray. The shredded remnants of a tarp and a long-forgotten campfire lay strewn in the foundation, overlooking an impressive view of the surrounding landscape. His quick search of the place yielded nothing of value, however.

Link took a brief moment to survey the area. To his left sat the remains of an outpost of some sort, its various structures deteriorated to mere walls. A lone flagpole with a long, shredded flag watched over the ruins, flowing eerily in the breeze, almost waving at him.

The dirt road ran through the outpost before curling along the perimeter of the plateau, disappearing into the distance. He followed the eastern stretch of the trail as it snaked its way through the hills, across a bridge over a river, and further along, where it proceeded into the gap between the towering twin peaks.

Nearly there already. He was making great time. Eager to see more of Hyrule, he quickly skidded down the hill and back onto the road, his equipment bouncing against his back.

His confidence in his progress didn't last long, utterly dissolving when he climbed the steps to the bridge. He had gotten so used to being alone that the sight of another human being shocked him more than it should have. All things considered, the only other person he had met that day was, in fact, a spirit, so he felt that his reaction wasn't _completely_ abnormal. Still, he wanted to jump off the bridge and swim across the river below if it meant avoiding the person patrolling it.

He didn't look threatening by any means — just an average man in travel clothes with a wooden spear in-hand. No, Link was simply terrified of meeting anyone face-to-face in his current state; the last thing he wanted was to unintentionally terrorize someone. Maybe if he just kept his head down and passed by quietly, the man wouldn't notice his face? That seemed like a good plan. It was all he had at the minute. His hands tightening into fists, Link ducked his head, speed-walking across the bridge, already breaking out into a nervous sweat.

 _Please, don't look any closer than you have to…_ Link plead internally.

The only bits of the stranger Link saw were his shoes and the shaft of the spear he carried as they passed by each other. The stranger's gait slowed however slightly as Link sped by, tugging his hood over his face and holding his breath. The bridge seemed to go on forever.

"Afternoon, stranger!" the man greeted sunnily.

All Link could respond with was, "A-afternoon!" his voice cracking.

With that friendly interaction behind him, he practically sprinted off of the bridge, barely catching himself on the stairs as he nearly plunged his face into the ground. If the stranger hadn't been watching him before, he definitely was then. All Link could do was hold tight to his whatever pride he had left and press on along the road, forgetting he ever crossed the bridge.

He made it a good distance away before he risked a glance over his shoulder. The stranger didn't seem to care much for him and his antics, continuing his march across the bridge and back again, whistling a jaunty tune. Link breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped all of his interactions with strangers in the wild went as smoothly as that.

Link spent the next leg of his journey following the curvature of the river flowing alongside the road. It was a rather wide river, too deep to trudge through and quick enough to sweep you away. He caught a few glimpses of fish leaping out of the water as he walked. The road followed the river at a respectable distance — close enough to hear it rush along and watch the midafternoon sunlight glitter off of its currents.

Moving with the land, he watched the twin peaks grow bigger and bigger until they dominated the horizon, bearing down upon him like a pair of judges. Facing them directly, he was intrigued to find that their grey, uneven edges almost fit together like puzzle pieces.

For a moment, he seemed to recall a legend about a dragon splitting a single mountain into two identical halves. He cocked his head, confused — where had that thought come from? He wasn't entirely sure, but it was a rather fantastical idea to tease as he stood at the maw of the peaks, taking them in in their entirety before making his way inside.

Passing through their pointed shadows, Link felt as though he were being swallowed by some monumental beast. Perhaps the dragon that had crossed his mind? He shook his head at that, smiling. Dragon or not, he figured his trek through the peaks wouldn't last very long — the wide river had funneled itself into a flowing ribbon of water, flanked on either side by lush riverbanks that shot through the divide for less than half a mile. He could already see the other end.

As he walked by the riverside, Link grew curious as to where Kakariko was exactly, and how much further he had to go. King Rhoam hadn't specified an exact location, but just as Zelda had said, he too had mentioned that the Sheikah Slate would guide him. Link supposed now was a good enough time as any to get to know his Sheikah Slate. Pulling it off of his belt, he held it in both hands below his nose, giving it a look over.

When his gaze met the dark screen, it blinked to life, greeting him with the reddened eye symbol. It still unnerved him, but it didn't remain on the screen to stare him down, fading as quickly as it appeared. With a pleasant blip, the eye revealed an intricate topographical map that, incredibly, _moved with Link_ as he strode down the road. He was portrayed as a tiny, glowing yellow marker on the interface, slowly drifting along the trail through the peaks.

He gave it a few tests, stopping and stepping again, amazed at its one-to-one accuracy and attention to detail in the environment it depicted. The map captured every ridge and basin and bend of the land with laser-like precision, offering him a bird's eye view of Hyrule at his fingertips.

Curious if he could interact with it more, Link tapped a finger on the screen and pulled the map away from his marker, exposing the trail ahead. As he did so, his eyes widened as words began to appear above the map, showcasing locations and landmarks. In the spanse of a few seconds, he learned exactly where he was and where he was going — he walked between the Dueling Peaks nestled in Western Necluda; just outside the peaks lay a stable, and up a curving road from there… Kakariko Village.

"Would you look at that…" Link breathed, admiring the Slate in a new light. Now that he knew just how useful it was, he would definitely keep it closer to him. Who knew what it could do in the wrong hands?

Now intrigued by his new tool, he was about to continue exploring the map when a strange sound emitted from the Slate — it resembled a deep, billowing groan of agony, mighty and thunderous, rolling along the walls of the Dueling Peaks around him. Without warning, the Slate's screen flickered, making Link slow to a stop, puzzled. He stared at the Slate, wondering again if he had broken it. That would have been just his luck.

But then the strange sound came again, followed by a violent gust of wind and a shadow that blocked out the sun entirely, deluging him in darkness. He rapidly realized that the sound hadn't issued from the Slate, but rather from somewhere above him. All at once, his hair shot straight up on the back of his neck — Link jerked his attention overhead, his body giving an involuntary jolt at what he found there.

It was so huge he couldn't make out what it actually was — an enormous shadow curled along the vein of sky between the peaks, easily as long as the peaks themselves, and barely wide enough to fit between them. Veins of deep violet glowed along its underside, painted with great swells of pitch-black mire, coating it like a disease. It undulated overhead in an almost serpentine fashion, the sound of its pained groans rattling Link's bones. Frozen beneath its great shadow, he only then noticed that the thing had legs and feet — three sets of each, bony and skinny, ending in honed talons. It swam through the air in a haste, its cries echoing off of the peaks hauntingly.

As it drifted by overhead, something thick and heavy dropped onto Link's hood with a _slap,_ like an immense raindrop. He brought a hand up to investigate, pulling away to find his fingers completely coated in a familiar dark ooze, flecks of magenta light glowing within it; the sludge rained from the creature all along the trail in puddles, burning the grass and sending plumes of black smog into the air.

His shock at seeing more of Ganon's Malice kept him from wiping it off of his hand in time — he was powerless to do anything but stare as the sludge voraciously leaked through his skin and inside him, ice shooting into his veins.

He gasped, bordering on hyperventilating, jerking his gaze from his hand to the creature in the sky. Whatever-that-thing was… it had been corrupted by Ganon, just as he was. He looked on after it as it began to leave him behind — as pained as it sounded to be, it seemed to be in a rush to go somewhere. Its head had already left the Dueling Peaks, its long body following suit.

Nearly out of the divide himself, Link clenched his infected fist and hooked his Sheikah Slate on his belt, breaking into a mad sprint after the corrupted creature. He had to do something to help it.

Somehow, he managed to keep decent pace with it. He and the creature's violet, crystal-encrusted tail emerged from the divide together. Try as he might, there was virtually no way of getting up to it. He didn't have wings. Even so, Link kept his eyes trained on it as it began to climb higher in the sky, gaining momentum.

It was then that he caught a brief glimpse of its face, finally identifying it: the mysterious creature was, in actuality, a _dragon._ But there was something disturbingly wrong with it: its mouth hung open in a perpetual scream, its eyes wide in fear and its long ears flopping as it tossed its crystalline mane around. It was his final look at it that had him digging his heels into the ground, his heart giving a weighty thud. Sprouting from the back of its skull was a grotesque, gigantic eyeball, its slitted, amber pupil focused directly on him.

Link choked. Ganon's eye. It hadn't shown itself by chance. It knew what it wrought; it had brought the dragon there to flaunt its achievements, and it relished in Link's slack-jawed reception of it.

Link was suddenly out of breath and doubled over as he was seized by sudden vertigo, swaying on his feet. He sunk to one knee, breathing heavily against his sprint, as well as Ganon's influence. As he watched the corrupted dragon shrink into the distant sky, he couldn't help but feel like it was bidding him follow it. But where was it going?

Raising the Slate, he aimed it at the dragon's retreating silhouette, hoping it could somehow help him. To his aid, the screen began to show him a zoomed-in, real-time image of it, almost like he were looking through a telescope. It appeared the dragon was headed for a tall, snow-covered mountaintop enshrouded in fog many miles away. He blinked when the Slate displayed more text against the image, labeling the distant mountain as Mt. Lanayru.

Lanayru… The name tugged at his brain, though he couldn't name why.

Link bit his lip. As much as his heart ached to help the dragon, the mountain was simply too far away. He had other engagements at the moment. Jotting down a mental note of Mt. Lanayru, and the poor creature that would retreat to it, he vowed he would find that mountain and do whatever he could to purge Ganon from its body.

Perhaps that would cleanse him, as well? He supposed he'd find out in time.

With the dragon well out of his reach, Link reverted to his original task: finding Kakariko. Judging from his map, it was close; he'd easily reach it before the low-hanging sun began to set.

Regaining his bearings, he laid eyes on the stable a stone's throw away. It was an interesting building in and of itself, surrounded by a paddock and topped with a giant, ramshackle sculpture of a horse's head. He could smell the hay and livestock from where he stood. He wasn't planning on introducing himself — thankfully for him, the four occupants of the stable had no interest in him, either, their gazes craned to the sky in search of something.

Faintly, Link overheard one of them gawking, "What on earth was that?! Did ya see anything?!"

"Nuh-uh!" another replied, flabbergasted. "Just a big ol' shadow… and no clouds in the sky to cast it!"

 _Strange,_ Link thought. _How could they have missed the dragon?_

Whether they had seen it or not didn't matter to him. Instead of lingering, he skirted around the stable, giving it a wide berth before rejoining the road as it proceeded north. He followed it up a hill that grew steeper and steeper the higher he climbed, eventually crossing another stone bridge that was, thankfully, unoccupied by a patrolman. He quickly ran across it and hiked up the rapidly-inclining hill leading into the embrace of a rocky mountain range.

Somewhere in the mountains lay Kakariko, and though he initially held anxiety in meeting the people there, the sight of the corrupted dragon snapped him out of it. He couldn't bear to watch anything else suffer at the beast's hand. He needed to kill Ganon's influence from Hyrule as soon as he could, and that meant overcoming his fears. If King Rhoam trusted the people in Kakariko, then he would, too.

Before long, Link's calves were burning after hiking up the steep incline, beads of sweat trailing down his neck. He was about to consult his map for Kakariko's location when he spotted several man-made structures ahead — tall, thin wooden gates, each engraved with a familiar, unblinking eye symbol. It appeared he was headed in the right direction.

Sure enough, his Slate read that Kakariko was merely around the next bend. Combating the fluttering anxiety in his stomach, he pressed forward, ready to meet whatever came his way face-on.

Unfortunately, with his face, first impressions weren't his strong suit. He was about to find that out the hard way.

* * *

 **Agh, so exciting! Raise your hand if you know which dragon Link just met! :) I know when I'm out chasing dragons, they appear out of nowhere and disappear just as fast. I hoped to capture that fleeting awe that I always feel in a dragon's presence.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 6. A bit of a shorter chapter... I tried to fill in Link's walk with interesting things so traveling wouldn't get boring. Hopefully it worked. :)**

 **Thanks again for reading. If you're liking the story, I'd love to hear any feedback you may have. Predictions, questions, anything buzzing around in your head.**

 **Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure. See you next chapter!**


	7. Sheikah Hospitality

**Hey, my peeps!**

 **Oh my gosh, I am SO SORRY for the delayed update! I had the craziest weekend of my life, and I had zero time to write. Sadly, this chapter is a day off of schedule, but I made it a bit longer (and even more exciting!) than last chapter, so I hope I can make it up to you. I've been looking forward to this chapter for so long and I can't wait for you to read it.**

 **I won't blather on. Enjoy! :) Thank you for your patience!**

* * *

Before he brought himself to enter Kakariko proper, Link exchanged a long, tense glance with the final gatepost guarding the entrance of the village. His stomach squirmed as he fell under the inanimate scrutiny of a slew of Sheikah eye symbols, one carved into the wooden archway, the rest painted on canvas flags slapping in the wind. Their stares slowed his pace, wrenching his attention onto them for a moment or two without his control.

Almost as if wanting to expose him to the eyes, a gust of wind slipped its fingers beneath his hood, threatening to toss it off his head. Though no one was around to see, he quickly caught it before it did, jumping a little at the wind's gusto, a shudder settling over him. Perhaps it was an omen to what was coming? Though his mind tried to tease the thought and send him spiraling into a panic, he forced himself not to dwell on his paranoia.

Ever since he first fell under its gaze, he couldn't quite fathom why the eye of the Sheikah instilled such a reaction in him — it seemed to hate him, critical of his every move. But he wouldn't let something as simple as a symbol stop him from doing his duty to Hyrule. Shaking it off, he grit his jaw and secured his hood down, giving the eyes one final stare before proceeding under the archway.

If he was being honest with himself, Link wasn't sure what awaited him in Kakariko. King Rhoam had been quite vague on that. Judging by the overgrown desolation of Hyrule he had seen, he expected to stumble into a community ravaged by the Great Calamity. But to his surprise, he found just the opposite.

Link came to a stop before a low fence at the crest of a winding, breezy hill. Far below him, he beheld a lush, thriving, close-knit village nestled in the heart of a valley. Nearly a dozen houses with domed rooftops speckled the terraces amongst the trees, long lines of flags and clattering wooden wind chimes connecting them. He spotted a few squares of earth lined with crops here and there and a cucco coop, as well as a pair of thin waterfalls cascading behind the largest house at the rear of the village. The breeze curling off of the valley's sheer walls carried with it the fresh, floral undertones of cherry blossoms and robust wood smoke.

Eyes widening, he lingered there for a while, drinking in Kakariko. It wasn't anything like the crumbling ruins he had woken up to: peaceful, humble… alive. The village was certainly an inviting sight, but the longer he took it in, the more he began to worry if he was welcome there.

By that time, the sun had already set behind the horizon, the mountaintops casting thick shadows over the village below. As darkness began to gradually creep in, Link's eyes flew to the figures appearing from out of their homes. One by one, he watched them walk along their porches and spark up blooms of warm, orange light to chase away the night — lanterns.

It appeared everyone was retiring for the evening. While that might have given him an advantage as far as avoiding encounters went, he wasn't sure where to even begin to find Impa, the elder. But with another quick run-over of the village, he figured the best place to begin his search would be the largest house near the waterfalls. The trail would take him right to it. Even if Impa wasn't there — and he believed she might have been, what with her title — then the house's occupant ought to know where to look… if he didn't strike them speechless first.

Again, the thought of his face made him reconsider every option he had. Would he sneak through the village? Walk out in the open? Loudly proclaim that he was looking for Impa? He wasn't sure which would help — or hurt — him the most. He gripped the fence in one hand, drumming his fingers against his bone mask with the other. Depending on how this went, he made a mental note to find a disguise of some sort to hide his wicked trio of eyes and glowing bones and horns. But for the moment, he had no choice but to wear his face for all to see.

Though the image of his face still concerned him, Link shook out the pessimism clouding his head. He had no idea how the Sheikah would react to him, but there was only one way to find out. He had to be prepared for anything — including a highly unlikely warm welcome. Exhaling his resignations, he began to walk down the hill, his heartbeat following his brisk, anxious steps.

The trek down only filled him with nausea and dread, his eyes on constant alert, flickering between every moving object. From the leaves fluttering in the trees to the flags waving overhead, he met each with a clenching of his muscles and a stutter of his heart. Every false alarm only exhausted him, his nerves wearing thin. Whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't have made it to the village's heart fast enough; he picked up his pace in spite of his terror screaming at him not to.

Thankfully for his sanity, he managed to pass by the first houses on his way down without incident, though his ears pricked to hear the voices inside. Though they were muffled, he still heard the life within them: male and female, young and old, happy and tired, all welcoming in the coming night amongst friends and family. It was both fascinating and heartbreaking being an outsider listening in. Part of him craved human contact, but the other abhorred it; the resulting confusion only made his stomach twist.

Pressing on, Link left behind a pumpkin patch, the house with the coop — teeming with a crowd of clucking cuccos — and a clothing store with a _closed_ sign hanging from its door knob. All clear so far. As he descended deeper into Kakariko, the valley stretched towards the sky around him, as did the houses. Yet as big as the regular houses were, they were eclipsed by the largest house by the waterfalls, in both its size and its presence.

He was nearly there, but being the size that it was, he could easily admire it from that distance. The broad, two-story house was perched on an outcrop of land jutting from the small, shimmering lake beneath it. It stood out as the grandest of them all, with a swooping, pagoda-like roof. A wooden staircase lead up to the wraparound porch, with a wrought-iron sculpture of the Sheikah eye hanging above its front facade. Several stout, stone figures huddled in a row beside the staircases' gateway, the nearby torches scattering their small shadows across the grass. Link watched lanterns glow to life in the windows, lit by a figure he couldn't make out.

His eyes were still trained on the ornate house when he finally arrived at the heart of Kakariko. It was only when he registered the voices sounding from nearby did he realize there were actually people around. He choked on his shaky breath, his eyes immediately flying to them and sending a jolt through him.

Quickly, he dove behind an old tree stump, tall and wide enough to hide him. Peering around its mossy bark, he studied the scene before him, piecing together a good means of approach.

There were three men standing in the wide courtyard before the house. One of them, the closest to Link, was busying himself with folding up an easel, a paintbrush behind his ear, with a square canvas propped up on his leg. He had his back to Link, muttering something about finding a good place for his painting to dry. He appeared to be an older gentleman, judging by his silvery hair and the faded, leathery tattoo on his shoulder.

The other two men seemed to be close to his age, as well. They had their white hair pulled into buns atop their heads, and they sported fair, aged skin and facial hair. Both were dressed in loose, cream-colored coats laced with crimson stripes, form-fitting pants and sandals, and curved woven-fiber hats. As Link admired their curious attire, his eyes immediately found the swords sheathed at their hips, his lips pursing.

Based upon their position in front of the large house, as well as their weapons, Link could only assume they were guards. And where there were guards, there were people of importance to protect. Impa must have been inside. Now, it was only a matter of getting to her… through them. He hoped he wouldn't have to resort to drawing his weapons to do so. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble. It seemed his safest option was to approach them slowly and unarmed.

 _Here goes nothing,_ he thought.

In only a few heartbeats, Link's veins ran alight with adrenaline, anticipating his next move; he remained planted in his place for a moment, waiting. As the painter gathered his canvas and hoisted his easel onto his shoulder, he bade the two guards goodnight, heading off towards what looked like an inn. Whether Link liked it or not, that was his cue. Wiping off the sweat slicking his palms, he emerged from his cover, willing his leaden legs to bring him to the pair of guards; a more than difficult task, considering how his body trembled against his will.

The taller man with the pointed beard noticed him first. He cut off mid-sentence in his conversation with the shorter guard with the pronounced sideburns, doing a double-take. On reflex, Link tilted his face downward, concealing his bone mask with his hood. Though he couldn't see them react to him, he nevertheless heard them, and it brought back memories he would have rather forgotten.

The unmistakable metallic hiss of two brandished swords rang through the night air, stopping Link completely. He didn't need to see the blades to know that they were out and at the ready. His shoulders tensing, he showed his hands in hopes of peace, remaining silent.

He struggled to maintain even breathing when one of them barked, "You there! Outsider! How dare you trespass near Lady Impa's home?!"

Unsure of how to explain himself, Link held his tongue.

There was a short pause before the other guard murmured, "Cado, look… His-his arms…"

Link winced. Somehow he knew that was coming. His fingers rolled into fists involuntarily, glowing bones folding over themselves in a mess of marrow.

Cado, the tall man, replied with a weak, "What in the name of Hylia…?" He then sputtered, "Wait — is… is that the _Sheikah Slate?"_

Link's eyes widened at their words, his gaze flying to the Slate on his hip. Could it be that they were expecting him?

The second guard, completely taken back, said, "But that would mean he is… No, it's not possible, but… can it be?" Slowly, he continued, "Show us your face… stranger."

Link had a sinking feeling, but he complied nonetheless. With a sigh, he raised his head, meeting the guard's gazes with all three of his wicked, glowing amber eyes.

Though he didn't blame them, their reactions still pierced him to his core; he didn't think he'd ever get used to this treatment. Like King Rhoam before them, they both pitched back in horror at the sight of his face, jaws dropping, their eyes as wide as full moons. Without allowing him a word, they both pointed their swords toward his chest — the shorter guard's sword rattled in his shaky hands.

"W-whatever you are, dark creature, why have you come to our fair village?!" Cado stammered. "Answer me, or I will spill your blood!"

Though barely able to even out the vibrato in his voice, Link stated, slowly, "Please, I'm not here to hurt anyone. My name is Link — I came from the Shrine of Resurrection. I am a former champion of Hyrule and Princess Zelda's appointed knight."

The two guards watched him speak, paralyzed, as though he were dripping with the blood of their families. Even so, he continued, "I was sent by the spirit of King Rhoam to speak to Impa. He said she would guide me. If you would just step aside and allow me to see her — "

But the shorter guard had heard enough. He spat, cutting Link off, "Over my dead body, we will! Do you honestly expect us to believe that? That's a filthy Yiga lie if I ever heard one."

Link blinked under the accusation, only he had no idea what he was talking about. Yiga? Was that some kind of name? All he could do was watch, braced for the worst, as the two men proceeded to argue, his mind racing with questions.

"Dorian," Cado said. "You can't possibly think he's a Yiga member — not with that face! I've never seen a Yiga look like that; he looks like a monster in human form! An agent of Ganon, perhaps?"

The shorter guard, who Link now knew as Dorian, responded, "Ganon or not, you know the Yiga's craft and deceit. Now that they're running out of ways to fool us, it wouldn't surprise me if they sent this miserable freak to throw us off our guard."

 _Freak._ Link hadn't heard that one yet. He recoiled, grinding his jaw and swallowing a lump in his throat. Whether or not they noticed him visibly falter at the name, it didn't matter. That was all the explanation Cado needed. His eyes hardening, he refocused his attention on Link, tightening his grip on his sword.

Before Link could continue to make his case, Dorian bore his teeth with a glare, growling, "You're coming with us, _hero._ We'll be having that Slate back."

"Wait, what?!" Link gasped.

Without provocation, they pounced on him, seizing him by the shoulders and pushing the flat of their blades against his throat. He immediately froze, unable to escape as they held him fast and began to drag him towards the stairs.

"Please — no, no, no, please! I'm not here to hurt Impa! I just want to speak with her!" he cried, digging his heels into the grass. Despite his efforts, they wrenched him along with impressive strength, forcing him to follow their steps as they climbed the staircase.

"You can take my weapons if you want to, I just want to talk!" Link offered, to no avail.

"Save your breath, beast," Dorian snarled in his ear. "You don't have many left."

This wasn't how Link wanted to meet with Impa at all — again demonized for his appearance, dragged in like an animal awaiting slaughter. Panic exploded inside him with each step he took, his mind jumping ahead to every worst possible scenario he could imagine. He prayed Impa might recognize him and spare him a terrible fate, but he wasn't counting on it. Not with the way he looked. Depending on how this meeting played out, he thought he might have to fight his way out of Kakariko if he wanted to leave with his life.

The three of them struggled up the staircase and finally arrived at the porch. Cado and Dorian, holding Link steady, both reared a leg back and bashed the double doors in with their feet, demolishing the peaceful atmosphere of Impa's house with an almighty crash.

The doors swung open to reveal a spacious room bathed in warm candle- and lantern-light, shadows playing off of the flags, talismans, and Sheikah eye symbols crowning the perimeter. Several rows of cushions lined the floor, facing a central altar at the back of the room, where two women lingered, jerking their heads over towards the doorway. The younger of the two gave a squeak at the trio's bombastic entrance.

"Lady Impa!" Dorian shouted as they dragged Link inside. They didn't falter until they reached the center of the room, where Dorian proceeded to shove his knee into Link's back, forcing him to kneel on the rug. Link did so with a grunt, his arms throbbing from their vise-grip cutting off his circulation. Cado ensured Link kept kept his head down and his eyes on the floor, the blade of his sword scratching against Link's Adam's apple.

"We bring an intruder!" Dorian announced.

"Oh? An intruder, you say?" a frail, female voice wondered. Link's ears perked at it — aged as it was, it was gentle and sweet, a drastic change from the harsh tones of the guards. It felt familiar to him, somehow.

"Yes, Lady Impa," Cado said. "He attempted to bypass us to speak with you. Claims himself to be the one we've been waiting for."

After a pause, Impa mused, "Link, hm? I see… Well, how am I to know if this intruder _is_ in fact Link, if I cannot see his face? Please, remove his hood so I may see him."

No one, not even Link, moved for several solid moments of silence. He held his breath, readying himself for the impending shock. He hoped his appearance wouldn't kill the poor woman. He tried to wriggle free of their hands, but they fastened their hold on him.

"Why do you hesitate?" Impa prodded. "Remove his hood, please. I would like to see his face."

Dorian and Cado exchanged a rigid glance. "If you insist," Dorian murmured.

Link felt his fingers burrow into his hair through the hood. Without preparing Impa and the young woman beforehand, Dorian tore the hood off of Link's head, exposing him, horns, eyes, and all.

Though they had already seen him, Dorian and Cado nevertheless stiffened. Meanwhile, Impa and the young woman both gasped audibly, cowering. The girl, stood beside Impa, had been holding a ceramic tea set placed on a tray. Upon seeing Link, her face went ashen and she dropped everything in her hands, the cups and teapot shattering and splashing tea across the floorboards. The sound only raked across everyone's suddenly-ragged nerves, agitating the very air.

Now that they were face-to-face, Link was able to get a good look at the two women. The girl's posture made her seem like a wounded animal — shivering, she held her arms close to her torso and covered her face with her hands, peeking between her fingers at him. Though she was young, perhaps near his age, she, too, had silky, pale white hair, draped down the back of her ivory coat, as well as perched atop her head in a bun secured with chopsticks. She wore similar clothes to Dorian and Cado, but Link found with awe that she had the Sheikah eye painted on her forehead in scarlet. She had a kind, innocent face and cool brown eyes — it was a shame Link's face brought her such mortal terror.

The woman seated next to her was, undoubtedly, Impa. As he looked upon her, he thought back on what King Rhoam had stated: that she was his trusted advisor. If that was true, then Impa had to have been well over one hundred years old, a fact that boggled Link's mind. Her age manifested itself in her tiny frame and in the tapestry of wrinkles and liver spots scattered across her skin. She had her snowy hair pulled back into a low bun above her coat, and she knelt on a collection of plush cushions on the altar, her hands tangled in her lap as she took in Link's face. Just as the young woman did, Impa also bore a deep purple Sheikah eye on her forehead. Her dark, weary eyes searched him ceaselessly from beneath an overlarge conical hat with cast iron Sheikah eyes dripping from its brim.

For several moments, Impa stared mutely at Link. He began to sweat under her ancient gaze, praying for her to know him in spite of his appearance. As much as he strained to recall memories of her, he came up short. All he could manage to do was offer her a crooked, feeble smile.

Cado broke the silence first. "Lady Impa… don't tell us you recognize this creature — it's _inhuman._ This couldn't possibly be the hero you told us about. Unless…?" He tilted his head, squinting at her, stunned at her reaction to him.

Link's rising hopes were dashed in an instant as Impa tiredly replied, "No… No, I don't recognize him. He is not the Link I knew one hundred years ago."

"I knew it!" Dorian said, looking down his nose at Link as he knelt limply on the floor, crushed. "I knew he wasn't who he claimed to be — he's no doubt a Yiga assassin, Lady Impa! Sent to slit our throats as we lie in bed!" He then drew his sword up to Link's chin, growling, "Let me take his head off, right here and now… and end his cursed existence."

A bead of sweat crawled down Link's neck as the tip of Dorian's sword tempted his skin. While Link tensed into stone at that, the girl gave a wheezy gasp and slapped her hands over her eyes.

She shrilly begged, _"Hahh, p-please don't!"_

"Not here, Dorian," Impa said before Dorian could act, her voice gaining a stern edge.

"You're right," he grunted, reluctant. Another ray of hope shone on Link, however briefly, before Dorian added, "I'll take him to the cliffs, do it there. Leave his body for the wolves…"

"You won't be doing that, either," Impa said before Link could panic again. "He doesn't deserve that."

Dorian was floored, his nostrils flaring in defiance. "But he's a Yiga assassin! He must be killed before he can kill _us!"_ Again, he pressed his sword closer to Link, the freezing blade prickling his skin. "It's the only way we can exterminate these traitors! One by one."

Throughout Dorian's rather violent ordeal, Impa remained collected, her little hands clasped, talking him down like a parent would a rowdy child. "Yes, but if he were an assassin, do you think he would have casually strolled into your laps like he did?"

Both Dorian and Cado took pause, their brows furrowing. Dorian frowned into the rug, gears in his mind grinding. "Er… no, I suppose not…" he mumbled.

Impa's eyes shone with a centuries-worth of knowledge and experience. She said lowly, "Dorian, you know better than anyone how the Yiga operate — the only trace they leave of their presence is spilled blood and ghastly silence."

Darkness consumed Dorian's eyes at that, and his shoulders slumped. His grip on Link's arm constricted until his veins began to go numb. The old man pursed his lips and fell quiet, staring into the rug. Link briefly wondered what Impa had meant by that.

Impa continued after a moment, returning her gaze to Link, "No, he is not of the Yiga, but he is, however, of interest to us." She then gestured to the burning red eye of the Sheikah Slate on his hip. "Where did you come upon that device?"

Link never got the chance to reply, for Cado did so for him. He said, "Most likely stolen from the real Link, I presume."

Before Impa had the opportunity to ask for it, Cado stooped and snatched it from Link's belt, releasing his hold on him and leaving him under the watch of Dorian. As he walked away with the Slate, something primal abruptly reared itself inside Link, sending him into a desperation for it. He couldn't explain what seized him so suddenly; his emotions boiled to a fever pitch inside him, the eye on the Slate blazing with a familiar magenta light that seemed to call to him.

 _Take it back,_ it commanded.

"Wait — I need that!" Link wheezed, reaching for it, only to be held back by Dorian. The old man strained to hold Link down by himself as Link got to his feet, fighting against his grip to get the Slate. "That was Zelda's — she trusted me with it!" Link insisted. "Please, give it back!"

"This artifact belongs to the Sheikah — not to you," Cado scorned, tucking it close to his chest. The Slate only called to Link louder the further it drifted from him, bursting with more and more light. Oblivious, Cado turned and resumed walking toward Impa, ready to give it to her.

"No, you don't understand!" An intense wave of cold rage mutated Link's panic into anger, then, his heart rampaging in his chest. "Let me go, Dorian!" he growled, his voice adopting something that wasn't him.

But the old man didn't listen. He had since dropped his sword and was hopelessly restraining Link with both hands, going red in the face against the young man's unprecedented strength. As Link powered against him, everyone in the room — except for Link himself — began to gape at his bones through his transparent skin. An intense magenta light coursed through them, growing brighter by the second, bolstering his power.

As Cado held the Slate before Impa — who had turned her gaze on them — Link grabbed hold of Dorian's forearm, his teeth bared. His touch sent a shiver across the Sheikah's spine.

"I said — LET. ME. _GO!"_ Link bellowed, shoving Dorian away from him as though he were nothing but a breeze.

Following a nauseous, ear-splitting _crack,_ Dorian rocketed across the room into the wall, bashing his head against it with a mighty boom. When he crumbled to the floor, he curled into a ball, a hoarse howl ripping out of him as he brought his hand to his right forearm, clutching it.

Time seemed to hold its breath for everyone in the room as they all turned their heads towards Dorian. Before Link had the chance to take back the Slate, something inside him suddenly retreated deeper into him, leaving him lightheaded as he set his eyes on the man he had sent flying with barely any effort. As Dorian wailed, his face twisted, Link came to the horrific realization that he didn't know his own strength.

What had he done?

He gasped and stumbled back from the sight of Dorian, shaking from head to foot, beginning to hyperventilate. "I didn't mean it… I didn't mean to do that…" he breathed, his jaw hanging open. He brought his eyes into his bony hands, watching the brilliant magenta light fade from this bones, reverting back to normal.

With that single shove, Link had snapped Dorian's forearm completely in half. It flopped into his lap, his skin already swelling and bruising beneath his sleeve.

Hoping to somehow help, Link took several shaky steps towards Dorian, arms outreached. "Dorian, I-I'm so sorry, I — " he began, only to get cut off as Dorian opened his eyes to find his inadvertent attacker standing over him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU MONSTER!" he screamed, spitting at Link. He scooted away as much as he could, keeping his fiery gaze trained on him. _"Don't you dare come any closer!"_

Heart shattering in his chest, Link stepped back, his blood running cold. He thought he might dart out the front door to escape the gruesome scene, but soon found himself with the tip of a sword pressed into his back. Knowing he wouldn't leave without the Sheikah Slate, he froze in his spot, bringing his hands up in surrender.

Cado, positioned behind him, endeavored to control the violent shudder that had overcome him, straining to keep his sword straight. "What do you suggest we do with him, Lady Impa?" he wondered reverently, worried the creature before him would whirl around and attack.

A quiet voice trickled through the thick, heavy atmosphere, barely registering to Link's ears as he gaped at what he had done.

"Take him upstairs, Cado, to the attic," Impa began. "Chain him up with the old shackles, keep him there until dawn. We'll speak again then."

"Yes, my lady," Cado said, gingerly reaching out and taking Link by the shoulder, pressing his sword into his back.

Link didn't fight it that time. He didn't have the strength for it. He turned his body toward the staircase situated behind Impa, but his eyes remained on Dorian, even as they walked to the stairs.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he continued to mutter, only he wasn't sure if he was apologizing to Dorian… or to himself. _"I'm so, so sorry."_

As Link climbed the stairs with Cado shadowing him, he caught one last glance of Dorian's face, glistening with sweat. The mask of hatred he wore shook Link to his core.

If Dorian had wanted to kill him before, then he certainly was hellbent on doing so, then.

* * *

 **Ta-daaah! I hope it was worth the wait. I had such a great time writing this out. Here's where the story starts getting on its legs and running!**

 **So, any thoughts? Predictions? Feelings? Comments? Concerns? I'd love to hear your feedback! I must say, this chapter is one of my favorites, so far. I loved writing Dorian's dialogue and the scene where Link, erm... goes a bit beast-like.**

 **Again, thank you for being patient with the update and reading my work. I love each and every one of you and I couldn't ask for a better audience.**

 **Until next chapter (which won't be late - promise!)! See you then!**


	8. Beasts of Burden

**Well, look who it is! It's me!**

 **Gosh, I cannot begin to describe how sorry I am for the massive delay on this chapter. I got a bit of it done after the previous one, and promptly fell sick. I get really bad spells of dizziness and incoherence when the weather gets bad, and we've had several storms in my area. Unfortunately, my writing took a back seat while I recovered.**

 **I'm not 100% yet, but I was dying to get this out. I made it quite a bit longer than the last chapter, to hopefully make up for the delay. Again, I am SO SORRY. Forgive me, and enjoy! Thank you for your patience!**

* * *

The trek up the stairs to Impa's attic resembled a death march to Link, the creaking of each step reminding him of the sickening crack of Dorian's arm. It replayed in his mind in a maddening, monotonous beat, splicing between his ears and making his stomach seethe. Had Cado not been pressuring him forward, he definitely would have leaned over and thrown up. As they climbed, it took every ounce of his willpower to hold himself together, sweat crawling down his temples and his mouth sour with bile.

In the aftermath of his encounter with Dorian, Link's mind and his stomach roiled in a humid maelstrom of horror — horror at both himself, and at the murderous look etched on Dorian's face. The same few words hissed inside his mind, searing into his very brain, and they seemed to be coming from Dorian himself: _What have you done, Link?! What have you done?!_ He fought against the lingering memories of his actions, but he couldn't shake them; they bled into his thoughts, staining them, reminding him incessantly of his monstrous behavior.

It had all happened in such a blur that he could barely even process what lead up to it — Cado taking the Slate, Link struggling against Dorian, something stirring inside him, and then… Dorian was on the other side of the room, wailing in pain, his arm drooping worthlessly into his lap. The thought of it made Link heave, his stomach burning. He honestly didn't remember grabbing Dorian and shoving him aside. It was almost as if someone had hijacked his movements.

He had a horrible feeling he knew who had done it. The realization slithered into his veins like a vile disease, sending a quake down his spine and stuttering his heartbeat. As they climbed past the second floor, the growing darkness seemed to grin with phantoms of Calamity Ganon, surrounding him on all sides and eying him hungrily. He shrunk in on himself in efforts to avoid his hallucinations, his skin itching in the darkness.

Link was so consumed by his position that he didn't notice the approaching ceiling until he had bumped his horns against it. Pausing, he came out of himself and looked over his shoulder to Cado with a frown, unsure of where to go.

Cado, upon noticing Link's eyes on him, stopped several steps below him. He stiffened, muttering, "Open the hatch. The attic is through there."

Though lacking a light to guide him, Link obeyed. He felt around the wood grain above his head, his fingers finding a metal ring. Taking it, he gave it a push, a small door swinging with a squeak over his head, revealing a cavernous, pitch-black square beyond. A breath of cold, stuffy air poured onto him, running over his bone mask and sifting through his hair, sending goosebumps across his skin.

He attempted to squint through the thick darkness, but he was unable to make out what lay in the attic. As anxious as he was, he couldn't help but see more faces coalescing in the shadows: wicked, gleeful faces with horns and fangs, bidding him enter. With those images in his head, he froze, his mind running rampant with visions of what could have lurked beyond.

He was quickly reminded, while staring into the darkness, that he would be spending the night up there. The reminder only served to pump his blood with more paranoia.

Link jumped a little when Cado said, "Well? What are you waiting for? Get up there!" He jabbed the tip of his sword into Link's thigh, spurring him, in spite of his dread, into the shadows.

Willing his heavy feet to move, Link climbed the last few steps and emerged into the attic, his body immediately locking up where he stood. Though the room was blanketed in an empty void, he found with a start that he could faintly make out the objects nearby, though their figures didn't comfort him.

No, it was the abrupt discovery that his bones and eyes became brilliantly luminous in the dark that made him squirm. Without him even wanting them to, his bones autonomously gave off a grisly magenta light, beaming through his skin and highlighting the surrounding objects for him to see.

Eyes adjusting to his own light, he took a look around. Clustered in piles throughout the attic were dust-coated collections of old furniture — tables, cabinets, chairs, and vases, all piled with extra cushions, folded clothes, blankets, lanterns, and conical hats. In the furthest corner, he spotted a dull glint of something hidden under a tarp held down with rocks, though he wasn't able to get a decent look at what it was.

As he ran his glowing eyes over his accommodations, he could only pray that he would catch at least some shred of sleep, though he heavily doubted it. Not with the hysterical fantasies polluting his mind. He wasn't looking forward to spending his first night out of his centuries-long slumber chained up in the dark and forgotten.

Before he could drive himself mad thinking about the night ahead of him, Cado joined him in the attic. He was about to strike a match when he caught sight of the corrupted light emanating from Link, his jaw dropping into his chest. Link, overcome with a wave of shame, turned away his gaze at Cado's gaping, his shoulders slumping. An audible shudder rattled the Sheikah's breath at the unnatural light, but he quickly shook off his awe and returned to his task, dipping his sword into Link's back again.

"Now then, er... this way," he mumbled, pushing him across the creaking floorboards to a corner laden with various odds and ends. Stew pots, frying pans, plates and bowls, mops, buckets. Nothing of use to Link. Or comfortable. It appeared this was to be his bed for the night.

"Sit," Cado ordered, forcing his voice out.

Complying, Link seated himself. His eyes down, he turned his palm over and under, studying his smoldering knuckles. He didn't want to witness Cado's ogling at his oddities, as it only made him all the more uncomfortable in his own skin. But it was all Cado could look at, try as he might to turn away. Link's strange body filled him with a sense of disturbed amazement.

While keeping a wary eye on Link, Cado searched for the shackles Impa had mentioned, but he came up short in the low light. In the meantime, he shocked Link when he proposed, "R-remove all of your belongings. Every pack, every shield, every weapon. Now."

Link's head shot up. Cado couldn't have been serious. His brows crinkling, he replied quietly, "But… I need this stuff… Please, let me keep _something."_

"I said _now!"_ Cado barked, thrusting his shaking sword mere inches from Link's third eye. "Don't make me..." He paused, swallowing hard. "Don't make me hurt you."

The light from Link's bones filled Cado's eyes and cast harsh shadows on his skin, making him appear ghastly. The sight wrung Link's stomach and brought a reluctant sigh out of him. He needed his things, but he didn't want to accidentally harm Cado, too, should he protest. No, he wouldn't dare. Without a word, he began to shirk his supplies, laying them at Cado's feet.

Cado didn't hesitate to push them out of his reach. Defeated, Link sat in his place as Cado finally found the shackles and brought them over. Their heavy stone chains thunked together in the darkness, but Link was so numb he barely even looked at them. Cado looped the chain around the leg of a heavy tea table nearby, kneeling before Link to lock his wrists into their clasps.

Link raised his hands for Cado, making things easier for him. As he shackled him, the old man avidly avoided their skin making contact, for fear he was somehow infectious; he grabbed Link by the forearm, covered by his shirt, and carefully locked both of his wrists inside the shackles with weighty _clicks,_ taking the key and slipping it into his pocket.

The shackles seemed solid; Link doubted that, even _with_ his added strength, he could have broken free from them. Not that he would try, anyway. He was still feeling rather sick, and he didn't want to cause any more trouble than he already had. He had done enough damage for one day.

Battling his nausea, Link's hands fell into his lap with a chinkling of the chains. As a wave of frigid air washed over him, he watched Cado sheath his sword and confiscate his packs and weapons. With everything safely in his arms, he didn't waste any time in making his swift retreat, dashing across the floor towards the pale light from downstairs shining through the hatch.

Part of Link burst into a panic at the thought of being left alone in the dark. After all, he had assumed Cado would guard him. Before he left, Link called out to him, his voice strained.

"...Cado?!"

The old man reacted to Link saying his name as though he had been electrocuted. Gasping, he ground to a halt in his tracks and jolted back, his eyes bugging out of his head and his hair standing on end. A few paces from the exit, he crouched in dreaded anticipation, listening for Link's reply.

Link hesitated, biting his lip. He wanted to both beg Cado to stay, as well as apologize for everything, but he knew he wouldn't listen to either.

In the end, all he could manage was a frail, "Please, tell Dorian how sorry I am."

A short, yet heavy pause followed. Without acknowledging Link's request, Cado darted down the stairs and laid the hatch shut with a deep, resounding thud, drowning Link in blackness.

Link's breath immediately rushed out of his lungs as the inky abyss gathered eagerly towards him, suffocating him and crushing him absolutely. It seemed to dissolve into his skin and creep into his veins, chilling his blood. Wide-eyed and hollow, he folded his legs against his chest and hugged himself, pinching his eyes shut against the dark and resting his forehead on his knees with a shaky exhale.

He sat there for quite some time, barely thinking, scarcely breathing, yet his heart rampaged in his empty chest, beating against his ribcage. He might as well have been gutted by the Sheikah; his mind lay in shambles from his paranoia, guilt, and anxieties, his body aching, his soul shattered. He barely had the strength to even think.

Sitting there, trembling and curled up in the dark, Link was a far cry from the hero King Rhoam and Zelda believed he was.

Oh, Rhoam, Zelda… Link honestly couldn't believe all that he had been through that day. It felt like an entire lifetime since Zelda's voice had reached out to him and woken him up in the Shrine of Resurrection. It was difficult for him to comprehend that he had met the last king of Hyrule that day, destroyed a Guardian, and traveled off of the Great Plateau on a paraglider — he'd even beheld an ancient dragon. But of everything he had done, he couldn't believe he had ended up there in Kakariko after all of it, vilified and imprisoned like the beast consuming Hyrule Castle.

Him. Link. Like Calamity Ganon. The words together were hideous to him. But after what he had done to Dorian… he felt he deserved it. His beastly act filled him with horror at himself. He grit his teeth and tightened his fists, perishing the thought.

He hadn't meant to do it — but that didn't excuse it. Nothing ever would. He'd have to live with the memory of Dorian's filthy glare for the rest of his life.

 _What kind of hero would do such a thing?_ he thought to himself.

Something inside him knew the answer, but he endeavored to push it out of his mind. And yet it lingered, taunting him, just as it did in the belfry. After witnessing the creature he had transformed into, and facing that awful reflection in the crumbling church — after beholding the Malice coursing through him and cowering from the mortal terror in the eyes of the Sheikah… Link slowly realized that he was no hero. No, he was only denying what he was, inside and out: a monster.

A monster that had terrorized people with his face _alone._ A monster that had shattered an innocent man's arm. Even _Calamity Ganon's_ _monster._ His blood boiled with dread and hatred at both himself and the beast for the disturbing reality that had been thrust upon him.

His breath began to draw in and out of his paralyzed lungs in gasps as the thought settled over him like a fell storm. How could he possibly save anyone, let alone a princess, even a kingdom, if trouble followed him wherever he went like his own shadow? Though, he supposed, with a face like his, it was only inevitable.

All the same, he couldn't help but curse his own face. Brows knitting together, he reached up and ingrained his fingertips into the bone mask, grinding his teeth and straining to find a way to pry it off of him. He knew it was a pointless venture, but he tried it anyway, prodding and pulling till his fingers were sore. It was just no use.

Reopening his eyes, he eventually gave up and cast his face towards the roof, resting his head against the wall and slumping back. He didn't want to believe it, but all of the evidence was there before him, glaring at him through his skin. He was a monster. He was _Ganon's_ monster. There was no denying it.

He almost started to accept his fate, but a tiny pinprick of light in the back of his mind pierced his crippling doubt, making him reconsider.

Amidst the chaos of his mind, King Rhoam's face materialized out of nowhere, dispelling the boiling mire that was his thoughts. After their encounter with the Guardian, Rhoam had believed Link was a hero — he had hand-picked him to protect the life of his own daughter after witnessing his valor and skill. He had given Link the start he needed to rescue the kingdom from a certain demise, and left him with his blessing. Surely, his word counted for something. He was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, after all.

And Zelda… She had placed perfect, radiant faith in him when no one else had. Her sincerity and warmth had soothed him in the worst of times, and inspirited him with courage. It was her light and belief that brought him out of the darkness, carried him off of his paralysis in the belfry, and motivated him to jump from the plateau. And it was the thought of her sacrifice that drove Link to keep his promise to her father, no matter what it took.

It was her. It had always been her. Zelda. _She_ was the reason he was a hero.

The thought was pleasant, but his monstrous reality still lurked in his head. Maybe, Link thought, if he could just hear her voice, then he'd find some semblance of peace after his encounter with Dorian that still gnawed at him. Hylia only knew he needed it then. Huddling closer in on himself, he took a deep breath, hoping — no, pining — for her to reply.

"Zelda… please tell me…" he plead, his voice raw. "Tell me I'm not like him… that I'm not a monster. Even if I am…what am I supposed to do? How can I stop it?"

He waited with baited breath for an answer. And yet, in spite of his cry, nothing came. He waited a bit longer still, but ultimately, his pleas hung in the stale air, looming above his head. Her silence destroyed a small part of him, his mind reeling with doubt and fear intensified by the darkness swallowing him.

But just when he felt he had fallen beyond the reach of her light, he received his answer.

It might not have been her voice, but he knew it was her, regardless. While leaning against the cold wooden wall, he was overcome with the miraculous sensation of someone wrapping their arms around him from behind. He seemed to feel the gentle pressure of her squeezing his chest, purifying the dark doubts consuming him.

Blissful warmth, as familiar as a new dawn, thawed his icy fears and trickled through his skin and spine, warming him to his core. For several moments, she held him silently, almost as if to reassure him that she was still there, and that she had heard him. Her silence was breathtaking.

His silent princess… Though she toiled against Calamity Ganon's thrashing, she still had enough strength left in her to comfort him in his hour of need, even through the distance between them. It left him speechless. Her unflinching resolve was nothing short of astounding to him.

New light illuminated the darkness in Link's mind. If, against all odds, she could continue fighting, then somehow, Link knew he could, too. Though the thought of facing Ganon nevertheless frightened him, he couldn't bear the thought of giving up, and leaving her to stand against him alone. She had already endured enough. Now, it was his turn. He had to be strong. For her.

He certainly had his own battles to fight, just as she did, but he made a promise then and there that he wouldn't allow Ganon's menace, as crippling as it was, keep him from his duty to Hyrule. From his duty to her. Monster or not, she hadn't given up on him, yet — he couldn't give up on himself, either. There was simply too much at stake for that.

He had to do whatever it took to destroy Ganon. And if that entailed defying what he had been forced to become, he would do so wholeheartedly.

Link smiled, his taut muscles relaxing while his throat tightened. "Thank you," he whispered aloud, tangling his hand in his shirt. "Thank you..."

Still encircled in her sweet embrace, Link's body eased away its tensions. In that moment, the darkness surrounding him shed its intimidating presence, instead becoming a quiet shroud of rest for him. Though the sun had only been down for a few hours by then, Link felt more than ready for bed, his body and mind weary, yet his soul enriched. He'd have to improvise his bed, yes, but he was plenty exhausted enough to find anything suitable.

Since he couldn't reach the cushions a ways off, he ended up removing his hood and wrapping it around a skillet, using it as a makeshift pillow. Thankfully for him, the length of the shackles' chain gave him just enough leeway to reach a blanket so he wouldn't freeze in his thin clothes in the night. After shaking out the dust from it, he settled down under the blanket with the hood-wrapped pan cradling his head. His "bed" was humble by all accounts, but it served him well enough that night. He was grateful he at least had a roof over his head.

With Zelda's silent reassurance pacifying his worries, his mind began to wind down, and his body slowly grew numb. His eyes heavy, he murmured reverently, "Goodnight. Stay strong."

Across the land, within the depths of Hyrule Castle, the princess wished him a good night, as well. As he drifted off to sleep, a tearful smile found her lips, and she retracted her presence from him. She settled in for another long night of her own, keeping the beast contained while her dear knight slept. She knew he deserved it more than anyone. Even herself.

"Rest well, Link…"she prayed to her hallowed walls. "Your trials are only just beginning..."

* * *

The night was rough for both of them. Just as she had done for one hundred years, Zelda kept the beast under her close watch, but for some unexplained reason, its activity levels surged that night. The sudden spike in energy startled her, making her curious, if not a bit frightened, of its cause. It writhed restlessly throughout the night, as if it were anxious for something, its groans rattling along the corrupted halls of the castle, filling her mind, as well as another's.

Link didn't fare much better. In spite of Zelda's presence at the beginning of the night, he tossed and turned amidst foggy, nonsensical dreams that snared his subconscious with voracious delight. Visions of raging, crimson fire and shadowy figures with spider-like legs darted in and out of his hazy, sleeping mind, strewn amidst panicked voices and murmurs. Even in his own dreams he couldn't process what was happening.

It was only when the shadows amalgamated into a hulking silhouette with piercing yellow eyes and tusks did he recognize what was plaguing his dream. Panicking in the face of the beast, he flinched away, bracing to run, only for his body to follow suit. He jerked abruptly awake with a gasp, chest heaving beneath the weight of the dream.

For a brief moment, residual panic from the dream flickered through his lungs as he tried to get his bearings with heightened breath. His surroundings were pitch-black, a fact that alarmed him, but he quickly remembered that he was still in Impa's attic. And, he realized further, still shackled. He did find, interestingly enough, that his bones had ceased shining, leaving him in total darkness. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, what with the total lack of outside light.

Though he certainly felt rested, he soon became acutely aware of a less-than-refreshing development, the first being his stomach snarling inside him. He hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon before, his ravenous hunger nearly dissolving a hole in his abdomen. And with the shackles binding him, he was in no condition to stand and search for some food, even if there were any around.

He clutched his stomach, fidgeting at its uncomfortable emptiness. If only Cado hadn't taken his things. Link would've done anything to bite into a crisp apple, or to dig into a smoked fish — he'd even settle for crunching on acorns. Anything to calm his twisting, angry stomach.

To his fortune, he didn't have to wait long to find relief. As he sat for another moment or two — his mind preoccupied with what would be in store for him that day — he failed to notice the footsteps sounding from downstairs until the hatch to the attic squeaked open, deluging the room in light. Jumping, he blinked against the new light, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes.

Link's heart fluttered a bit as he beheld the person approaching him. It was Cado, looking a bit worse for wear. He had removed his coat and hat, his pale hair a bit disheveled; funnily enough, Link spotted a few feathers poking out of his bun. The lantern he held in his fist cast his face with stark shadows, emphasizing the bags under his eyes. It appeared he hadn't slept well, judging by his rigid expression and glazed-over squint.

Cado came to a stop before Link, looking over his makeshift bed. His eyes tightened.

Before he could say anything, Link greeted him. "Good morning, Cado," he sheepishly said, getting to his feet.

Cado didn't dignify him with a pleasant reply. Frowning, his brows crinkled, and he pursed his lips, grunting, "I have been sent to fetch you by Lady Impa. She wishes to have a word with you."

Without another word, he removed the key to Link's shackles from his pocket and set him free, but not without taking him firmly by the shoulder and escorting him out of the attic.

Link, though nervous to speak with Impa after what happened, was nonetheless grateful to be leaving the attic. It almost felt like escaping a tomb, and he welcomed the dazzling morning light on his skin with a swell of delight in his chest. His faint smile transformed several times as they descended the flights of stairs down to the main floor, ranging from thrilled to anxious. He had no idea what plans Impa had for him.

But per his revelation from the night before, he vowed he would face whatever Impa had in store for him with courage. Come what may, he was ready.

At length, Link and Cado climbed their last steps and emerged into the main room of the house. They were greeted with a similar scene from the night before, with the double doors and various windows ajar letting in a sweet morning breeze.

Impa had moved from her spot on the altar, seated on a cushion before a low table set with three plates, pairs of chopsticks, spoons, and teacups. A thin ribbon of steam curled out of the spout of a teapot placed in the center of the table, the earthy smell of its contents mingling with the floral undertones of cherry blossoms filling the room. It appeared Impa was the only one around — neither Dorian nor the young Sheikah girl were present.

Impa turned her head to greet them as they stepped further inside. To Link's astonishment, she offered him a friendly, aged smile. She gestured to the table, calling him over.

"Please, have a seat with me," she said kindly.

As Cado hung back, Link stepped gingerly forward, seating himself across from the tiny old woman. He folded his hands in his lap, his back stiff. Even when graced with her friendly expression — a novel sight for him — he still ground his jaw shut, his heart pounding. He couldn't believe she was seated that close to him so comfortably.

"I hope you slept well, er…" she began, trailing off. She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Oh, do forgive me. My memory isn't what it used to be. Tell me, what was your name, again?"

He wet his dry throat, replying, "Link, Lady Impa."

"My, aren't you polite, Link," she chuckled. "Link… That name… It certainly is unique. I seem to recall knowing a young man named Link, but that was quite a long time ago, you see."

Studying his face, she reached out and took up the teapot, gently pouring a cup of tea for him. Pouring one for herself, and taking a sip, she continued, "The Link I knew was one of the bravest people I've ever known. He withstood the trials that were thrust upon him with his head held high and his feet planted firmly in his beliefs and his skills."

As Link listened in silence, his brain began to itch. She went on, "He was a rather quiet young man — never one to complain about his challenges. He knew from experience that they would come and go, and that he would take them as they came, always reassured that his strength would pull him through."

Impa's eyes searched Link's for a moment before she finished, "I looked up to him in that regard. His example helped me through some tough times, and it continues to do so, even now. I've always wanted to thank him, but, unfortunately, I haven't seen him in one hundred years. It seems I have missed my opportunity."

Link's heart sank a little at that. He was beginning to think she had recognized him. But why would she? Not with his face. A long pause followed, wherein Impa's wise gaze seemed to delve directly into Link's soul. Goosebumps ran over his skin, and he flushed with nervous heat, beads of sweat building on his neck.

He remained silent when she finally said, "It seems you share a name with that ancient hero, but… I'm not so certain on the rest. You certainly aren't subtle like he was," she said slyly, making Link purse his lips and stiffen. "Which brings me to why I called you here… Link," she started.

Link blinked away his stupor at her words, listening.

Impa said, "I'm afraid that, because of last night's… incident… I am now down a set of hands for chores around the village. With Dorian out of commission, and with the threat of the Yiga Clan so high at the moment, I need Cado to guard me around the clock while Dorian rests." Link snuck a glance to Cado, stood behind them with his arms folded. He looked back to Impa when she continued, "That leaves me with their extra work that I simply cannot do on my own, me being the age that I am. In light of this, I thought it best to put you to the task.

"I'm recruiting you to do some work around Kakariko," she explained, much to his shock. "Little odd jobs for my people. Whatever they need from you. I cannot say how difficult the tasks will be, and I can only promise compensation in the form of meals and a roof over your head until Dorian's arm heals. You will stay in the village until then. I feel this could, possibly, make up for what occurred last night."

Link, his heart hammering, nodded rapidly, "Yes, Lady Impa. I'll do anything you ask. Anything, hopefully, to… to apologize… for what I did."

He hung his head, his rigid posture sagging. He sighed, asking timidly, "How… how is Dorian?"

She paused for a moment, replying reverently, "He is well. He is resting at home, with his daughters."

Link's head snapped up, his face flushing. "...He has children?" he gasped, suddenly overcome with another wave of disgust for what he did.

"Yes," Impa replied, her expression solemn and her eyelids low. "Two beautiful girls. Koko and Cottla. They, with my granddaughter, Paya, are taking care of him." She leaned forward upon taking in Link's wilted face, saying, "Don't you worry about old Dorian, Link. He's seen much in his life, and it's made him tough. He'll be just fine. I'm sure he's grateful for the time he can spend with them, now that he's being forced to relax."

Even with Impa's reassurance, Link still felt awful. The hunger in his gut mutated into caustic guilt that tightened his throat and stole his breath. Even so, he knew that Impa's proposition was exactly what he needed to set things right, no matter how poorly he might be treated in the process. He wanted to make up for the damage he had done and the disruption he had caused the peaceful village. It was the least he could do.

After taking a sip of his tea, Link looked Impa in the eyes, determined.

"Where should I start?" he asked.

* * *

 **And, boom! Another chapter! I hope it was worth the wait - a little angsty, yes, but I feel like with all that Link's going through, he's bound to struggle within himself. Especially after what happened with Dorian. Ouch!**

 **Man, I'm falling in love with Impa. She's awesome. We'll be seeing more of her in the coming chapters, as well as more of the inhabitants of Kakariko.**

 **Thanks again for reading in spite of my awkward delay in uploading. I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my work and join Link on his journey. :)**

 **Things are about to get interesting! Stay tuned!**

 **Bye! :)**


	9. Helping Hands and Contraband

**No, this is not an April Fool's track - it's the real deal! Corrupted Hero chapter 9 is HERE, baby! Yahoo!**

 **Okay, allow me to explain why I disappeared for 2 months. I am SO FREAKING sorry! Unfortunately, life happened and it kinda happened all at one. But it's good news, so don't worry! I got promoted at my job, and I've been having a blast with my new position. I've been traveling, getting tons of work done... it's been amazing. But, that meant that I had NO time to write. Thankfully, now that things are calming down, I'll be getting back into the swing of writing. Hurray!**

 **I won't ramble much longer, but I just wanted to give every one of my amazing readers a colossal, heartfelt THANK YOU for giving me so much support, even in my absence. I couldn't ask for better friends. For all you dedicated readers, this is for you!**

 **Notice how this chapter is LONG. Let me tell you, it was one of my favorites to write. This one is the longest by far, and it's chock-full! I can't wait to present it. Let's just hope it was worth the 2-month wait. Also, did you notice the new cover? Freaking sweet, right?!**

 **Anyway, thanks again for your patience and support.**

 **Please, enjoy chapter 9 of Corrupted Hero!**

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Before Cado could grab Link and shove him out the door, Impa insisted on feeding him a decent breakfast, stating that he'd need all the strength he could get to take on the odd jobs around the village. That didn't inspire Link with confidence for the coming day, but he figured he had to put in hard work to make up for what he'd done. He was astonished at Impa's hospitality, but, not wishing to be rude — and in need of a means to quiet his moaning stomach — he humbly accepted her offer.

Cado, however, disproved, though he held his tongue; he wouldn't dare impose on Impa's decision. Standing back, he watched over the two of them with his arms folded and his mouth warped into a frown as Impa procured their breakfast. Link did his best to ignore the old man's scowl bearing into the side of his head as he dined with her.

Even under Cado's scrutiny, Link rather enjoyed Impa's company. She smiled warmly across the table at him, looking upon him like a treasured grandson come to visit. Amidst light conversation about the weather and her comments on his ratty clothes, she refilled his teacup several times with an earthy, slightly sweet Sheikah tea, encouraging him to take second helpings of the meal they shared.

He didn't object to her offer. He had never tasted anything like it — a bed of steamed rice beneath a plump, piping-hot omelette stuffed with meaty chunks of pumpkin, onion, and thick carrot slices. The omelette was hearty and satisfying, bursting with rich, rooty flavor and salted to perfection. He didn't mind in the slightest taking another, all the while thanking Impa repeatedly for her kindness.

He was so enthralled with his meal that he didn't notice her studying him as he ate. In utter silence, Impa took in his mannerisms and his heartfelt thanks, archiving them in her mind. His appetite and manners certainly aligned with the person in her memory, but his alarming appearance, as well as his actions from the night before, betrayed who he seemed to be. Impa wasn't entirely convinced of his identity, but she thought she'd wait and see what the day brought. Thankfully for her, she had eyes everywhere. He'd be well watched over.

After Link cleared his plate and thanked Impa for the umpteenth time, Cado grew impatient. He stepped forward, grunting, "It's nearly eight o'clock. The chores won't do themselves, you know."

Part of Link saddened at his persistence — he didn't want to leave Impa just yet. She made him feel more welcome than he had ever felt, before. Truly, he felt at home for the first time in a century. But in spite of his desires, he knew he couldn't mingle with her forever. Though Cado had phrased it gruffly, he was right; Link had a job to do — several, as a matter of fact.

Impa seemed to feel the same. She sighed, her bright countenance fading. "I suppose you're right, Cado." She faced Link with a shrug. "It appears our time together is up. Run along and get some work done, now. I'll see you again in a little while. Work hard, and we just might do this again."

Link rose to his feet, giving her an indebted smile, his heart as warm as his stomach. He found himself bowing slightly in gratitude to her. "I'd like that," he said. "Thank you, again, Lady Impa, for your hospitality. I sincerely appreciate it."

She left him with a parting smile of her own, a sparkle glinting in her eyes. "You are most certainly welcome, Link."

He paused for half a moment, stunned by the way she said his name. There was a fond familiarity in it that stirred something inside him. Almost as if… she knew him.

He never got the chance to think deeper on it, however, as Cado wasted no time in putting him to work. Taking Link by the shoulder, Cado whirled him around and steered him away from Impa and towards the door. Link kept pace with him as they hustled in silence across the carpet. He grew a tad worried along the way about being left alone with the old man; there was no telling what he would do outside the watch of his elder.

Link soon realized that he had every right to be worried — as soon as they passed through the door's threshold, Cado abruptly wrenched Link across the porch and out of Impa's view. Without warning, he forced Link against the porch's railing and yanked him close by the collar, his brows knit together and his eyes ablaze.

Link gasped and cowered beneath the old Sheikah, his heart stuttering. He suddenly became acutely aware of how vulnerable he was without a weapon. All he could do was listen in petrified silence as Cado unleashed his bottled-up anger upon him, hatred dripping from every word.

Lowering his voice, Cado growled, "Listen here, _beast_ — what you did last night was nothing short of barbaric. I spent all night with Dorian, witnessing firsthand the pain you caused him as he screamed while we realigned his bones." He jammed a finger into Link's face, making him flinch. "If you even _think_ about harming anyone else in this village, I will personally see to it that your blood and brains paint the walls of this valley! If you try _anything,_ anything at all, _I will know."_ Eyes tightening, he continued, slowly, "Do I make myself clear?"

Link's blood chilled under Cado's venomous warning. His breath wavering, he shrunk away from the man's face as much as he was allowed. He nodded timidly, his jaw locked and his eyes wide.

But that wasn't good enough for him. "I want you to say it!" Cado demanded, pounding Link's back against the railing till it creaked. "I said, _do I make myself clear?!"_

"Yes! Yes, completely!" Link stammered, his spine aching in its extreme curve as Cado bore down on him, glaring knives.

A moment of intense silence followed as Cado sifted through Link's petrified expression. He found only submission and fear in his glowing eyes and in the sweat trickling down from beneath his bone mask. Just what he wanted. To intimidate the beast.

Cado snorted. "It appears you have some sense in that vile mind of yours, after all. But do not mistake Lady Impa's hospitality. I do not trust you. _We_ do not trust you. You are only alive because she sees something in you that the rest of us don't.

"You have much to do, beast," Cado continued. "Don't keep my people waiting. Now, get out of my sight before I do something I shouldn't." With one final sneer, he shoved Link towards the stairs, nearly sending him tumbling down them. Turning, Cado strode toward Impa's door and began to make his way inside, his fists tight.

Though desperate to get away from him and his wrath, Link hesitated before leaving. "Wait!" he called, making Cado whip around. Forcing his voice out, Link asked, "Could I at least get my hood back? Please? I-I don't want to... frighten anyone…"

Cado, his hands on both doors, cocked a brow. "What for?" he replied. "They've already been warned you're coming."

With that, he threw the doors shut with a boom, leaving Link to his own devices.

Link lingered on the porch for a moment or two out of sheer paralysis, the cool morning air turning the sheet of sweat on his skin to ice. He shivered, his mind reeling with Cado's harsh words. Although, if he paused to think on it, he supposed could understand his hostility. Link hadn't exactly made a good first impression.

Still, he had no earthly idea what to expect when he set to work throughout the village. Would the villagers be terrified of him, scurrying away before he had the chance to help? Or would they abuse him like a criminal, just as Cado had? Link didn't like the prospect of either, but he knew that Impa had work for him to do. He'd at least keep his promise to her; she hadn't treated him like he was subhuman.

Swallowing his dread at what was to come, he turned and looked upon the village, wondering where to begin. From Impa's porch, he could make out the nearby inn and what looked like a pair of shops to his right. Along the trail up the hill lay several houses, including the one with the cucco coop, as well as the clothing store. He couldn't see any of the villagers yet, but he figured he'd make his rounds from the bottom of the valley upwards and see where that took him.

Perhaps he'd check if the innkeeper needed anything first?

Anxious as he was in the wake of Cado's threats, Link still found solace in the quiet, tranquil morning as he set off toward the inn. A healthy breeze rustled through the grass and played with the clinking wooden banners strung overhead, the lingering smell of extinguished fires and dew tickling his senses. All around him, songbirds chirped above the telltale squawking of cuccos welcoming in the new day, the patchy clouds overhead aglow with the tawny light of dawn. No matter what happened, Link still felt he could appreciate the natural beauty around him. At least nature wouldn't shy away from his appearance or spit in his face.

He was halfway across the grassy courtyard when the door of the inn swung open, out walking a somewhat familiar face. Link's pace slowed as he recognized the white, brush-like updo and faded tattoo belonging the painter he had seen the night before.

Oblivious to Link, the painter strolled out of the inn, taking a deep lungful of the morning air, a blissful smile on his lips. With a fresh canvas, a bucket of brushes and paints, and his easel under his arms, he looked ready to begin a new painting, his eyes scanning the area for a good reference.

That was… until he noticed Link. The painter stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going wide and his relaxation fleeing in an instant. Horrified by the horned, dark figure walking toward him, he dropped everything he was carrying and darted back into the inn like a bolt of lightning, slamming the front door behind him.

Link ground to a halt at the man's frantic reaction. His shoulders drooped, a groan escaping him. He wasn't looking forward to inadvertently terrorizing Kakariko's populace. But there was nothing to be done about that. He'd just have to grin and bear it, though that would prove easier said than done.

"Here we go again…" he sighed.

His eyes fell on the painter's abandoned supplies. Though not an errand, he figured he had to start somewhere. Making his way over to them lying in the grass, he picked them up one by one and proceeded toward the inn's door, sliding it open with his foot.

He entered a large, dimly-lit, single-room inn with several beds and nightstands lining the walls, all softly illuminated with lanterns. The brilliant light pouring in from the door flooded the place and chased away the darkness, making the Sheikah man stood behind the front desk shield his eyes like a blinded bat.

As Link stood in the doorway, unsure of how to approach the situation, he caught a quick glance of the painter's face peeking out from behind the front desk. He was crouched on the floor, cowering beside the innkeeper. When he met Link's eyes, he gasped and retreated.

Link heard him squeak, "Ollie! Th-that's _him!"_

The innkeeper, Ollie, kept his hands over his eyes. Even from Link's place at the door, he could see him shaking.

"I-I don't wanna look… I don't wanna look…" Ollie muttered under his breath. "Maybe if I just don't look, h-h-he'll go away…!"

Their hysterical terror only made Link's heart shrivel in his chest. Who knew what they had been told to expect? A raging, hellish monster bent on slaughtering them to slake his bloodlust, most likely. He knew his appearance might have conveyed that, but he hoped his actions would change their perception of him. He just prayed he'd get the chance to show them who he was — who he _truly_ was, hidden behind the mask.

Chewing his lip, Link slowly approached the front desk, his eyes low and his steps cautious.

Ollie, his hands still pressed over his face, didn't acknowledge Link as he stood for a moment across from him. He shook so violently the chopsticks slid into his silvery bun rattled together.

Link cleared his throat, wondering softly, "Erm… excuse me?"

Ollie wheezed into his palms in explosive panic. After a moment, he peeked between his fingers at Link, only to spiral with fear at the sight of him, his sleepy eyes huge and his breath laboring in and out of his lungs.

"Ack! Don't hurt me! I'm too young!" he screeched, making Link jump. Ollie, too scared to move, endeavored to make himself smaller. "J-just tell me what you want! A free bed, my life's savings — anything! Just please, don't hurt me! I like my arms the way they are!"

Link, slightly hurt, fought back memories of Dorian's arm snapping. He peered across the desk to the painter squatting behind it, proposing, "Actually, I was just returning these… That man dropped them outside. I... thought he might want them back?"

Ollie risked a glance through his fingers to watch Link set the easel, paints, and canvas on the desk as carefully as though he were handling delicate explosives. Link then took a step back, clasping his hands and giving Ollie some space. He didn't want the poor man to faint. That would only add fuel to the blazing fire that was his reputation with the Sheikah.

A long, awed silence followed, the only sound rustling the air Ollie's quivering breath. "Pikango," he whispered, his gaze locked on the canvas. "Your stuff. H-he brought it back."

The painter, who Link now knew as Pikango, poked his head out from behind the desk. His eyes found his supplies before traveling to Link, where they lingered. He stared, perhaps several moments too long, before he managed to choke out, "Why, er… thank you… _sir."_

Link offered him as pleasant a smile as he could muster, though when coupled with his fierce, fang-laced bone mask and emotionless glowing eyes, he only succeeded in making Pikango's face twitch.

"Don't mention it," Link replied. Turning his gaze to Ollie, he proposed, "Er… if you need any help, I'd be happy to lend a hand — "

Finding himself the center of Link's attention only flustered Ollie further. He reacted as though Link had just thrust a sword to his throat, leaning back and hyperventilating.

" _Okay, okay!"_ Ollie stammered, diving below the desk and emerging with a bulky bolt of dark blue fabric in his arms. He practically threw it across the desk and into Link's face, whacking him in his bony nose. "Here's some fabric we just got from Hateno," Ollie sputtered. "Deliver it to Lasli and Claree at Enchanted. _Please, just take it and leave me alone!"_

One of Link's fangs accidentally popped a seam from the fabric when it hit him. He winced upon seeing it, but ignored it, replying, "A-all right. Thank you. Er… have a nice day." He added, looking upon Pikango as he slowly rose from the floor, "You too, Pikango. Thanks again."

His skin itching in the dense atmosphere, Link quickly saw himself out without a second glance behind him.

The moment after he closed the door to the inn, he heard a heavy thump from inside — someone had collapsed. He froze, cringing on the doorstep. He had a feeling he knew who it was. Following a quick survey of the area, Link hurried down the stairs and banked a right. He didn't want to make any more of a scene than he already had.

His head ducked low, he scurried across the grass, his mind surging with dismay at the fear he'd stricken into Ollie and Pikango. As he sped to a destination he didn't know, he could only pray that he wouldn't leave a trail of petrified villagers in his wake as he made his way throughout Kakariko. That would be just the justification Cado needed to spray the valley walls with his blood. And Link knew he would do so happily.

The thought sent a shudder down his spine and quickened his pace. Walking in a blind haste away from the inn, he passed Impa's house and found himself striding up the nearby hill. The cacophonous clucking of cuccos in their pen filled his ears as he passed the cucco house and the clothing shop without a second thought, his mind abuzz and his breakfast frothing in his gut.

He frowned into his bones glowing through his fingers. Who was he kidding, trying to help the Sheikah? No matter the merit of his intentions, he just couldn't seem to do anything right. And it was all because of his cursed appearance. He ground his teeth, briefly wondering how many more lives he would ruin that day. How many more bones he'd break, how many panic attacks he'd trigger. He supposed he'd find out in due time, but part of him begged to simply leave the village behind and head back into the wild.

But he couldn't. Not yet. Not without the Slate.

Oh, the Slate. He hadn't even thought about it until just then. Even considering his bizarre, desperate reaction for it the night before — not to mention what had happened because of that — he still wanted it. All the same, he couldn't quite fathom why he had lashed out in such a way. Crazed, almost feral. It was almost as if the Slate was a part of him — a part so deeply connected that it drove them both insane when ripped from its companion.

But the idea in and of itself was preposterous. The Slate wasn't _part_ of him. It was just that. A Slate. A device. It wasn't as if it had any _life_ in it, right?

 _...Right?_ he thought to no one.

With his mind swarming like a beehive, he had unconsciously walked well past the next set of houses when his senses returned to him. Beneath the shade of a tree, he looked over the midnight-blue fabric in his arms.

Shaking off his worries, he returned his mind to Impa's tasks. Where was he supposed to deliver the fabric to, again?

The clothing shop, surely. Link turned and looked down the trail, setting his eyes on the sign above the shop's front door depicting an oversized Sheikah coat. It must have been Enchanted. If not, he'd ask for directions. That, of course, entailed meeting more of the villagers. He supposed he'd have to see what came of it.

He had no sooner passed the nearby houses when the front door to his right opened, a brisk set of excited footsteps meeting his ears.

"Cottla! Come back, sweetie, you haven't finished your breakfast!" someone called from inside the house.

Link's head jerked over to investigate. He abruptly lost all sense of purpose, stopping when he spotted a Sheikah child darting out of the house. He hadn't seen any children in his stay thus far, and he was surprised to find that the Sheikah, no matter their age, all possessed pale, shimmering hair.

The little girl before him was no exception. She couldn't have been more than four years old, with rosy, chubby cheeks and cute, looped hair that bobbed with each bouncing step she took. She burst out the door with a broad smile on her face, giggling to herself.

She had only reached the grass when she, too, stopped entirely, her big, rich brown eyes traveling up Link until they found his face. He retreated slightly, preparing himself for the impending shrieking.

But, to his amazement, the little girl didn't cry. Instead, her smile only grew. "Wow…!" she beamed. "You have a funny face!"

Well, he wasn't expecting that. Her words brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. Funny. He hadn't been called that, yet. Somehow, that lifted his spirits.

Link didn't have long to enjoy the little girl's refreshing company, for they were soon joined. Another person emerged from the house, out of breath from scrambling to grab the little girl. This time, Link recognized them — it was Impa's granddaughter, Paya.

"Cottla! Cottla, come back — " she began, only to cut herself off when her gaze met Link's. She gasped and stumbled back into the doorframe, bumping her head against it. "O-oh! It's you!" she breathed, her cheeks flushing. "I… er…"

Paya's eyes flew to the little girl, still enraptured with Link. "Um… C-Cottla, come here, sweetie," she stammered, her voice shaking. "You need to finish your rice before you can play… Remember?"

The little girl, Cottla, was too engrossed with Link to do as she was told. She pointed to his face, cheering, "Look, Paya, look at the funny man! He's got spikes on his head! And stars for eyes!" She bounded up the stairs and grabbed Paya by the hand, tugging at her in vain to bring her to Link. Paya remained rooted to her place, rigid as a statue.

"Look, Paya, look!" Cottla repeated. "You're not looking!"

Only Paya _was_ looking. She gaped at Link, her body taut, as if expecting him to lash forward at any moment. It pained Link to see someone so mortally afraid of him that they wouldn't dare break eye contact — especially someone as timid and kind as Paya. She held her ground like a cornered, frightened animal.

As Link stood, his cheeks heating up beneath their gazes, something caught his eye. His gaze wandered down to Paya's hip, where he caught a split-second glance of a familiar magenta light peeking from beneath the hem of her coat. She gave a small gasp when she took notice of his staring, tugging down her coat.

She had the Slate.

Without warning, Link's gut gave an involuntary roll, his muscles seizing up as he suppressed a sudden lurching from deep inside him. He ingrained his fingertips into the fabric, grinding his jaw shut and wrenching his eyes away from Paya and into the dirt.

 _No,_ he grunted to himself. _I won't! I won't do that again! Not to her. Not to anyone!_

As he fought the overwhelming urge to charge forward to reclaim the Slate, he found himself under the scrutiny of a new set of eyes. Having heard the commotion from outside, the owner of the house leaned over to peer through the open doorway.

Link's heart dropped into his writhing stomach when their gazes met.

Dorian.

Even with the dark circles hanging beneath his eyes, he seemed to have been enjoying his morning — seated at a low breakfast table laid with teacups and bowls, his broken right arm cradled in a sling. But the moment their eyes met, the old man's countenance completely transformed, his face mutating into a wicked snarl. Abandoning his breakfast, he began to get to his feet, his teeth bared.

Link tensed for the worst, ready to take off running. But in Dorian's rage-fueled haste, he neglected to pay heed to his arm. Attempting to push himself up from the table via his wounded limb, his arm spiked with pain as his fracture split. In an instant, his face twisted and he gave a cry, crumbling into the floor in a heap.

Paya and Cottla both whipped their heads toward the house. In their distraction, Link was half-tempted to make his escape, but something kept him in his place. He yearned to help somehow, but he knew he wouldn't get the chance. Not with Dorian. He remained where he was, watching the scene play out, an omen brewing in his gut.

As Dorian grunted and clutched his sling, another little girl sprang from her cushion and rushed for him, worrying, "Father?! Oh no, are you okay?!"

She must have been Cottla's older sister; they looked incredibly similar, if not for their sizes. Although she appeared only seven years old, she flew into action with a pot of ointment and a cloth, ready to aid her father.

As he lay stiff on the floorboards, she carefully peeked under his sling. Before she had the chance to dab his skin with her ointment, Dorian sat up and gathered her close to his chest with his good arm, his eyes honed in on Link. They were aglow with a hot, defensive fire, burning into his face and refusing to let him go.

Confused at her father's reaction, the girl peeked over her shoulder and out the doorway, her gaze falling immediately on Link's dark figure. Unlike her sister, she didn't find him quite as fascinating. Not at all. Her little body locked up beneath her father's hold, her eyes widening with terror.

Her young, petrified expression broke something inside Link — something he'd never forgive himself for. But it was the high-pitched scream that escaped from her mouth that utterly destroyed him. Suddenly breathless, he jolted away as if he had been physically beaten, taking a few steps back on unstable knees, his throat cinching nearly shut.

At that moment, he felt completely and totally _monstrous._

As the tension in the air bore down on all of them like a relentless rain, Paya broke her paralysis, foreseeing disaster. She took one glance between Dorian and Link, and in one swift movement, scooped up Cottla, placed her into her house, and drew the door shut.

She kept her back to Link for several eternal moments, barring the door against Cottla's little fists banging against it. When the girl was finally pulled away, Paya paused, took a deep breath, and slowly came around to face Link.

Upon bringing herself to meet his eyes, she struggled to even out the vibrato in her voice. She wasn't so sure she could handle being alone with him — only, something about him had changed. She didn't notice it until she finally found the courage to muse, "G-grandmother said that that would be inevitable…"

Link stood, numb, his blood icing over in his veins — the scream of Dorian's daughter was like a knife in his mind, shredding his resolve to ribbons. It took ages for him to coax his response off of his tongue.

"...Your grandmother is a wise woman," he murmured.

His voice hardly carried over the light breeze. It was hoarse. Ruined. Though she only just heard him, Paya nevertheless stiffened as he spoke. It was jarring, hearing him speak — his calm voice didn't suit his face.

All the same, she couldn't ignore the pain in his voice. Something stirred inside her upon recognizing it. She listened intently as he added, "I've never met anyone like Impa. You and your people are lucky to have her as your elder."

Paya, studying his wilted posture, replied, "It's a blessing, yes." Pausing, her mind raced for something to say beyond rigid small talk. Ultimately, she decided to reroute their conversation. "Erm… Grandmother asked me to watch over you today as you go ab-bout errands. She received a list of chores from the villagers." Gesturing to the bolt of fabric he carried, she said, "Ollie needed that delivered... to Enchanted, didn't he?"

"Yes. He mentioned that," Link replied. "I was just on my way over, when… well…" He trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. Truth be told, he almost didn't have the strength to face more rejection. Not after Dorian's daughter.

A passing gust of wind left them both in silence for a moment.

"Um… Well…" Paya muttered, wringing her hands together. Her next words clung to her tongue until she practically spit them out. "I th-think it might be best if... _I_ delivered the fabric to them."

Link's ears perked up, his brows furrowing slightly. She went on, "Lasli and Claree can be a little… skittish. A-and Olkin needs help with the harvest; he's been complaining about his knees. Y-you should do that next."

Link gave a nod. "Okay."

Though they were in agreement, neither of them moved for a moment — Link, unsure of where to go; Paya, battling against her heart stampeding in her chest. Gathering her courage, she proposed, "Here… erm… l-let me t-take that..."

To Link's amazement, Paya stepped toward him, almost on tiptoe, before she reached out and gingerly pulled the bolt of fabric out of his hands. She didn't meet his eyes and abstained from touching him as she did so, but that didn't register to Link — he was too stunned by her borderline-courageous act of doing him a kindness to notice. He simply let the bolt slip out of his limp fingers, his horror at himself dissolving in lieu of humble awe.

Maybe there was more to Paya than he originally thought? Even that small act of service… it meant the world to him.

With her delivery in her possession, she took several quick steps back and hugged the fabric close, her eyes flitting between Link and the clothing shop just down the path. "You, er, w-wait here. Please. I-I'll be right back — "

She suddenly swiveled and darted down the trail, leaving Link thunderstruck. He watched her knock on the door of Enchanted and hand the fabric off to someone he couldn't see. Once she had delivered it, she bade them goodbye and rejoined Link.

Motioning toward a nearby offshoot of the trail, she said softly, "Olkin's patch is this way."

Link hesitated before making his way over to the patch. He couldn't pull his eyes from her. He abruptly saw Paya in a different light — and it was nothing short of wonderful.

With something fluttering around in his chest, he murmured, "...Thank you… Paya."

He wasn't sure what to label her reaction to his thanks, and neither could she. Either way, she couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing pink. Without a word, she ducked her head and shuffled off down the new trail, where Link followed her suit.

In his newfound appreciation for her, he completely forgot that she had the Sheikah Slate.

Paya lead him across a low bridge spanning a brook and past several signposts until they arrived at last at the pumpkin patch. The spot was hidden from the main trail, surrounded by swaying sakura trees and guarded by a fence. Several dozen pumpkins huddled in rows in the soil, their grower already hard at work on them.

When Paya called out to him and introduced Link, he gave a jolt not unlike anything Link had seen prior. At the very least, however, Olkin didn't take off screaming, instead lingering to guard his garden. Link's meeting with Olkin went about as well as the others had, albeit with Olkin beholding him as though he were on fire, threatening to destroy his crops.

He initially held resignations against Link offering his hand. But after some convincing from his achy knees and Paya's quiet reassurance, Olkin relented, though his grimace never faded from beneath his unkempt beard.

Not wishing to repeat what had happened at the inn, Link kept conversation to a minimum and his head down, setting himself to work snipping the pumpkins from their vines. Olkin kept an almost hawk-like watch on him; he was convinced Link's dark condition would somehow pollute his crops. After Link eventually left, Olkin scrutinized each and every pumpkin that he touched, hunting for impurities. Thankfully, he came up short.

True to her grandmother's request, Paya oversaw Link's efforts with Olkin, as well as with the other villagers as she accompanied him from errand to errand. As the day grew long, she gradually grew a tad more comfortable with Link, and he with her, though she still maintained a healthy distance between them at all times. Kind and helpful as he was, she kept the memory of his attack on Dorian fresh in her mind. She knew what he was capable of. Neither of them would ever forget it.

The two of them made their rounds in the village, visiting everyone on Impa's list. Link rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed the floors of High Spirits Produce, the local food market, while the shopkeeper, Trissa, cowered on a stool in the corner. Later, Link was forced to sit outside and carve arrows for the arrow shop owner, Rola, while she gaped at him through her window. He scared her half to death when he managed to cut himself, entering the shop to ask for a bandage. She promptly dumped a roll of cloth on the desk and asked him not to drip his magenta blood on her rugs.

By midafternoon, the cut on his palm was throbbing, his back was sore, and his muddy clothes clung to his sweat-soaked skin. Desperate as he was for a break, Link didn't complain, even through his body's groaning. At the end of the day, he was happy to pay back what he had done to Dorian, even if the villagers still gave him a wide berth and whispered behind his back.

Unfortunately for Link, his day wasn't about to get any better. His next task brought him back to Cado, stood at the crest of Impa's stairs. He wore a smug grin and tossed something at Link's feet. It was a tiny metal spoon, no bigger than his pinkie finger.

Link's brows crinkled as he held it between two fingers. "What should I do with this?" he asked.

Cado chuckled. "My cuccos would certainly appreciate it if you cleaned out their coop. Now that I am on constant guard for Lady Impa, I've had no time to maintain it." With a wicked glint in his eye, he sneered, "You have fun, now."

So Cado owned the coop, then. Link endeavored to hide his disdain, knowing that it would only please the old Sheikah. Grinding his teeth, he took the spoon, marched to the cucco coop, and ducked inside it on hand and knee, scraping away at the petrified clumps of cucco feces caking the floor.

As he labored in the coop, Paya sat on Cado's porch, grimacing at Link's gagging. She felt that this task was a tad cruel, but she kept it to herself. While Link chiseled away, she took a moment to look out at a bank of thick storm clouds approaching above the mountaintops. Even in the golden midafternoon light, they remained dark and imposing, their bellies painted a deep, stony blue with water. She prayed that the rain would come soon and relieve Link of his chores for the day.

Sadly, the clouds took their time in that regard. He spent the next hour and a half scratching away every scrap of cucco feces he could until he couldn't breathe. Gasping, he shimmied out of the coop and gulped fresh air into his lungs before casting aside his spoon onto Cado's porch.

He gave a heavy sigh, smearing away the sweat on his upper lip with his wrist. The smell of the coop oozed out of his skin, curling his nostrils.

"Done," he breathed, kicking his handiwork into the grass. He glanced to Paya. "Are there any chores I missed?"

She looked over his work. "I… don't think so. Er… wait, not quite…" She thought back on her mental list. When it dawned on her just what it was, she winced, saying shyly, "Just one task left for the day, I'm afraid. But… perhaps we ought to... skip this one..."

Link tilted his head. "What for? What is it?"

She hesitated to reply, chewing her lip. "...Dorian needs his floors swept."

Link blinked, the muscles in his neck tightening. He had been so preoccupied with the rest of the villagers that he had forgotten about Dorian — part of him would have rathered it stay that way, but another part of him rose to the occasion.

"No," he said firmly, looking into his hands. "...I can't skip Dorian. It's the least I can do for him. The very least."

Now that he was thinking on it, he wasn't looking forward to doing the deed, but it had to be done. After all, he would only be sweeping. He just hoped Dorian would allow him to even step foot into his home without going for his throat.

Though they were both dreading it, Paya nevertheless lead Link up the road to Dorian's house — the door still shut from earlier that morning. She remained in her place outside, her hands clasped, as he proceeded into the lion's den.

Link swallowed his anxiety and climbed the steps to Dorian's front door. He knocked twice, half-hoping he wouldn't get an answer. But, just to his luck, someone responded.

"Come in," came Dorian's gruff voice.

Link eased the door open, carefully stepping inside. He endeavored to make as little sound as possible, padding in cautiously, his eyes soaking in the cozy, single-room home. A bed occupied the farthest corner, the walls were lined with shelves and talismans, and hand-carved wooden toys lay scattered about. It appeared neither Cottla nor her sister were around.

Link froze when he spotted Dorian, seated directly across from the front door, leaned against the wall. He sat beside a shelf stocked with books and vases of various sizes, a broom propped up against it. He rested his broken arm in his lap, glaring at Link in the fading light in complete silence, his nose wrinkled and his jaw locked.

Dorian's eyes trailed Link from the tips of his short horns to his ragged shoes, perusing him with disgust. Finding himself again under Dorian's unflinching scowl made Link hesitant to move, though he fidgeted in his own skin.

They merely watched each other for what felt like centuries before Dorian growled, "Well? What are you waiting for? Sweep the place, already, if that's what you're here to do."

Link gave a timid nod, casting his eyes down. "Of course," he murmured, striding across the floor and taking the broom by the handle. He proceeded to skirt along the perimeter of the house, picking up toys and cushions Once the floor was clear, he began to run the broom along the floorboards.

As he worked, he didn't dare move too quickly, for fear he'd upset Dorian, somehow. He didn't want to risk the chance that the old man was hiding his sword somewhere in the house, waiting for an opportunity to use it. He ensured he kept Dorian in the corner of his eye at all times, and screwed his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted was to say something that would send Dorian's already-bubbling wrath to volatile levels.

The reverent swishing of the broom against the floor was the only sound in the thick, heavy air. The silence filled Link's ears near to bursting, pressing against his skin. At every turn he made, he felt the weight of Dorian's stare boring into him. The old man trained his eyes on his guest, scrutinizing even the way he walked — peering through his transparent skin, he was disturbed by the way his bones drifted inside him. The sight flooded his brain with questions and revile.

At long last, Link gathered a neat pile of dust in the center of the house. He swept it over to the front door and brushed it outside before giving the room one last look-over. The floor was noticeably cleaner; he figured he had done his job. And not a moment too soon. Without giving the old man a second glance, Link quietly set the broom against a wall, and began to make his way out.

But something stopped him. A loud crash issued from behind him, and he whirled around, startled. He found Dorian still in his place, his eyes still locked on him. Scattered across the floorboards beside him were the fractured remains of a ceramic pot, as well as its contents — thousands of grains of rice, sprayed in all directions.

A chill came over Link, then. He could only stand in silence as Dorian glowered at him from across the room.

"Oh, dear," Dorian mused, his voice flat. "It appears that my broken arm has made me drop my rice pot." A flicker of a smirk tempted his lips. "Clumsy me."

Link's stomach turned over at the raw contempt radiating from Dorian. He had only seen its equivalent in King Rhoam's first impression of him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Link took up the broom, again, as well as the dustpan, and strode over to Dorian.

He sunk to his knees, sweeping the rice grains and ceramic shards into a pile. As he gathered them into the dustpan, he felt the pressure of Dorian's glare against his face. Only this time, it didn't intimidate him. No, it only made him want to end it. Link was honestly trying to settle things, yet Dorian refused civility. He hoped they could talk it out.

That was just what he attempted to do. With a bloom of courage from nowhere, Link spoke up, his voice miraculously level. "Dorian, I… can understand why you're angry with me — "

"Angry?" Dorian interrupted. Link, shocked, snapped his head up to face him. "Oh, no, I'm not angry," he continued, shaking his head.

He then leaned into Link's face, growling, "I'm _furious._ I have dutifully served as Lady Impa's guard for over a decade, now, and I have never questioned her judgement once. Until you came along." His brows tightened over his flaming eyes. "Somehow you've planted into her mind the inconceivable notion that you can be trusted. That you are who we've been waiting for! The hero straight out of a legend.

" _You,"_ he spat. "This... horrifying monstrosity of horns and teeth and eyes! You are nothing more than a demon crusading in human form." Throughout his tirade, Link remained still as stone, when, without provocation, Dorian surged forward and seized a handful of Link's shirt with his good arm, pulling him close. His breath was hot against Link's face. "She gave you a bed. She fed you. She trusted you to help her people, when she clearly saw what you were capable of!"

He grit his teeth. "I can't comprehend it! What does she see in you?!" Tightening his grip, he hissed, _"Why in the name of the gods above should we trust you?!"_

Link drew in several shaky breaths through his nose, searching through Dorian's mangled expression. His heart raced in his chest as he said, slowly, "Because I'm trying to set things right." Dorian blinked at that. Link went on, "For you, for your village, _and_ for Hyrule." He then shook his head, much to Dorian's astonishment. "And I'll do it no matter what I look like. And I won't rest until it's done."

A brief silence followed. Dorian appeared to have been stricken speechless. Link stared intently into his eyes, finishing, "Now, I'd appreciate it if you let me do my job."

Unfortunately, Link's response only sent Dorian into an explosive rage. His breath began to rush in and out of his nostrils in heavy bursts, his muscles tensing as he roared, "Why, you devil! _How dare you speak to me like that?! I'll kill you!"_

Link pitched himself back to avoid an attack he was anticipating, but Dorian had knotted his fingers into his shirt. As Link retreated, Dorian's firm grip tore his shirt nearly in half with an audible rip, making Link stagger.

They both stared at what remained of Link's shirt, agape, when the brisk snapping of footsteps greeted them. They turned their gazes to the door as Paya stampeded into the house, her eyes enormous at the sight she beheld. Her lips firming, she tightened her fists at her sides, and commanded, "Link," — he shivered when she said his name — "Grandmother is calling for you. C-come right away. Please."

Link, his mouth set in a line, gave Dorian one final glance before he straightened, turned, and followed Paya out of the house. He left the old Sheikah with a few scraps of his worn shirt, as well as the shattered aftermath of their rice-and-ceramic warfare to keep him company.

Link was certainly grateful that Paya had rescued him, but he nevertheless squirmed against a foul feeling deep inside him. In all truth, he was thoroughly disturbed by Dorian's almost inhuman behavior — memories of their argument haunted him for the remainder of the night, clouding his mind through the brief bath he took, all throughout dinner (which, incredibly, he hardly noticed), and even up until Cado had shackled him back in Impa's attic.

He sat in the dark, his humble bed and his thoughts illuminated only just by the soft magenta light emanating through his skin. Though it sent his mind spiralling, he could understand Dorian's hostility — after all, Link was the one who had disturbed their peaceful lives and broken the man's arm without provocation.

Even so, he felt that his efforts in helping the villagers at least warranted giving him a second chance. Mostly everyone in the village had, either voluntarily or not… except for Dorian. No, he simply refused to see Link as anything more than a dark blot on their village that needed to be exterminated at the end of a blade. The reality of that wasn't lost on Link, but it stung all the same.

Link stewed over his day for longer than he could keep track of. His mind churned for several hours into the night; his head was full to spilling with a slurry of emotions, drooping into his shoulder as he eventually began to doze off. He had certainly earned himself a good night's sleep.

He just hoped he wouldn't relive his day in his dreams. Those chores had been something else, and he hadn't particularly enjoyed a few of them. Although, if he could dream of spending time with Impa and Paya, then perhaps he wouldn't mind so much. The two of them had been the highlight of his day.

He had only just shut his eyes when a sound from downstairs roused him out of his exhausted stupor: a heavy thud that rolled through the house like thunder. The sound mimicked what he had heard earlier that day at the inn — like someone falling to the floor.

Link sat up a little, his face scrunched up in sleep. He wondered if someone had slammed a door too hard. Some time passed as he listened for any other sounds. Nothing. He almost fell back asleep when he heard another thump, followed shortly by a muffled cry.

His heart leapt in his chest, snapping him awake.

 _That sounded like a voice,_ he panicked. _A girl's voice. What's going on?_

A sudden onslaught of worry tumbled around inside him, rattling his bones and churning his stomach. Tossing away his blanket, he tried to make a beeline to the trap door to investigate, only to remember that he was shackled. This time, Cado had secured his bonds with extra weights in the form of old statues and tables, ensuring he couldn't wander far. Eager to find out what was going on downstairs, Link futilely pulled against his chains and tried to slip his hands out, but ultimately ended up bruising himself.

"Urgh," he grunted under his breath. "How do I get out of here?!"

Link continued to try and find a means of escape. His chains were clacking together so loudly that he didn't notice the approach of someone from downstairs until the trap door had been swung open, and warm, flickering lantern light filled the room. He froze, turning his head to the figure drifting slowly towards him from out of the darkness.

It was Paya. Only something was wrong. _Very_ wrong.

"Paya?!" he gasped. The shadows against her face made her seem ghostly. "What's going on down there? I thought I heard something."

She didn't reply, only shuffling forward ever so slightly. She shook like a leaf, her lantern rattling, her breath raspy and weak.

"Paya, are you okay?" he asked, his neck tingling.

"I-I — n-need your help — Link," she finally whimpered, coming to a stop before him.

Now that she had come close enough, he saw her in a shocking state: her hair had been violently pulled from its bun, leaving it a disheveled, knotted mess. His eyes traced the long lines of shiny tears streaking down her face. Illuminated by the lantern light, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a bruise smudged across her cheekbone, as big as his palm and black as night.

Link's heart dropped into his stomach. Without thinking, he came forward and laid his hands on Paya's shoulders. She flinched almost invisibly, but she didn't fight him. She simply stood, her body as numb as her face.

"Who did this to you?!" Link demanded.

"It was… I-it was…" Paya gasped, struggling to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "A Y-yiga member. A man. H-he was s-so big, s-so cruel." She paused for a moment to regain her breath. "H-he snuck in, knocked Cado out and threatened to b-break Grandmother's neck unl-less I gave him what he w-wanted."

Link wasn't sure what the Yiga were, exactly, but he already hated them. Though it killed him to see her stammer against her tears, he continued to probe her for information.

"What did he want, Paya?" he asked.

She sniffled, not daring to meet his eyes. Gulping, she whispered, _"The Sheikah Slate._ Forgive me — I had to. He was going to hurt Grandmother. He was going to — !"

The poor girl broke down, then, melting into sobs and hiding behind her hands. Though the Yiga had gone, his presence still lingered with her. Something came over Link, then. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her and gather her close to him, squeezing her; she crumbled into his embrace.

"Paya, Paya, it's okay. Don't apologize," he murmured softly in her ear. "You were very brave. I'm proud of you."

They held each other for a while in silence. Paya sobbed into Link's chest, shaking uncontrollably as he attempted to soothe her, stroking her back and reassuring her that she had done well.

"I was s-so scared…" she breathed between her tears. "I th-thought I would die…"

Something seared through Link's veins at her words, igniting a fire inside him. "I'll find him," he said. "I'll make him pay. Get back the Slate. I promise. You stay here, with Impa. I'll be back."

He had no time to lose — but thanks to his shackles, he had to stop and consider things. To Link's amazement, Paya came prepared, removing his shackle key from her pocket and releasing him. Now a man on a mission, Link took her by the shoulder and escorted her out of the attic, down the stairs, and back into the main room of the house.

There, he met with an unsettling scene. Cado lay strewn against the rug like a ragdoll, unconscious. An open window let in the smell of an impending storm, the night wind slapping at the flags dangling along the ceiling and stuttering the candles. Impa, her conical hat missing, knelt beside Cado, her hands rested gently on his forehead.

When Link and Paya entered the room, Impa glanced up for a moment. Her face had no emotion, no color. She said nothing as Link left her granddaughter with her, picked up Cado's sword, and exchanged a long, firm glance with the two of them as they knelt beside each other.

"I'll be back," he promised.

Securing the strap of Cado's scabbard, Link turned, burst through the double doors, and darted into the night.

* * *

 **Ladies and gentlemen, things are about to get CRAZY!**

 **Oh my gosh, I'm dying, I'm so excited. This chapter was an absolute joy to write, and I honestly am bursting to get the next one out.**

 **So, what did you think? Was the chapter too long? Or did you like the length? I don't think the next one will be quite as jam-packed... Either way, I'd love to hear any feedback you may have.**

 **Again, thank you so much for reading and being patient with me.**

 **We'll see you next chapter... ;)**


	10. Thick as Thieves

**GUESS WHO!** **It's me.**

 **I don't have much of an excuse for the late update other than finals happened, work got busy, and I just lost track of time. I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY!**

 **But never fear! The next chapter of Corrupted Hero is here, and boy, is it _beefy._ After seeing the new BotW trailer (GO WATCH IT! HOLY CRAP!) I kicked myself into overdrive to get this finished. It's like, 3 AM, so that's fun. :P**

 **I wanted to make sure this chapter was something else. Something to really sink your teeth into after such a long wait. Here, we'll meet a character that I had waaaay too much fun with. Just a warning, however, this one gets a little intense. Here's where that T-rating comes into play. But it's nothing too extreme, don't worry.**

 **Seriously, I want to give a HUGE thank you to you for being so wonderfully patient. You guys rock. I couldn't ask for a better group of friends.**

 **Anyway, I'll be quiet, now. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I personally think it's one of my best. :)**

* * *

Needles of icy rain pricked Link's skin as he thundered down Impa's staircase. With each pounding step he took, the memory of Paya, bruised and sobbing, burned within skull, driving his feet with a righteous haste he had never felt before. He moved like a man possessed. His gaze fixed ever forward, he gripped the hilt of Cado's sword with glowing knuckles, steadying it as it bounced against his hip, his jaw clenched and his heart racing.

He had to find that thief.

Even if it took him all night, he would find him. Even if the rain soaked him through to his magenta bones. Even if he had to chase him out of the village like a dog, _he would find that thief._ Though the thought of facing such a dangerous person sent flickers of fear between his ribs — as he had yet to stand up to someone like that — he wouldn't back down now. He couldn't. Something inside him forbade it.

No, he would find the thief — and he would make him pay. No matter what it took.

Link stampeded down the stairs in a few seconds flat, hitting the muddy ground with a splash. He slowed his pace, casting his eyes about. Over the course of several hours, the stormbank from earlier that afternoon consumed the mountains, casting a peaceful, diaphanous mist upon the village that thickened the shadows and lowered visibility. At that late hour, with all but a few of the village's lanterns extinguished, Link could only just make out the silhouettes of the houses and trees nearby — a fact that made him anxious. He prayed he'd be able to find the thief amidst the damp, dripping darkness.

But where would he even begin to look?

Due to his haste, it only then occurred to Link that he had no idea who or what he was looking for. He stood for a moment, sorting through his options. All he had to go off of was Paya's vague description of the thief. A man. _So big. So cruel._ A man not afraid to strike a defenseless person. The thief was undoubtedly not a local, so Link put away the faces of the villagers from his mind. None of them could have done something like this.

No, he was looking for a stranger. Someone who didn't belong. Someone holding the Sheikah Slate.

The thought of the Slate stirred something within him, but he suppressed it, gritting his teeth. He had to find the thief first. Then, perhaps he could begin to understand why he was so inexplicably desperate to have it. He wasn't so certain he was prepared for the answer, however.

But he would meet that end when it came. Wrenching his mind back to his task, Link continued to scan his surroundings, unaware that he was being watched.

He searched, his gaze voracious, but he didn't find anything amiss nearby — only the pattering rain and darkness soaking the grass. For a moment, he tempted the thought of going back inside the house to ask Paya for more information. Perhaps he'd ask for a coat, as well, and maybe a lantern. But just as he was about to turn, something caught his eye — a bobbing orb of light, rapidly advancing toward him, accompanied by the wet slapping of footsteps.

He squinted at the light, his grip on Cado's sword tightening. Could this be the thief?

To Link's astonishment, it wasn't. Of all the people to meet at that moment, this person was the very last he was expecting.

A gruff, familiar voice hollered into the night, "Hey! _Hey!_ Over here!"

Link's face twisted slightly when he recognized their voice. "Dorian?!" he called back, striding forward, shielding his third eye from the rain.

The old Sheikah's figure came into view as he made his way across the grass, a lantern aloft in his fist. He had his broken arm tucked close to his chest, the coat draped over his shoulders protecting it from the elements. His curved wicker hat sat atop his head, his sideburns drooping and dripping. Link found with a start that Dorian wasn't barreling toward him, sword drawn and screaming. No, he looked tired, anxious even, his eyes sunken. Something was wrong.

Dorian came to a stop before Link at a minimum safe distance, his lips taut. Link's heart stuttered at his sudden entrance, and he stood stiffly, half-anticipating an attack. Fortunately for the both of them, none came — from Dorian or otherwise. Even so, Link still itched in the old man's presence. He hadn't forgotten their encounter that afternoon.

Before either of them could speak, Link found himself stiffening beneath Dorian's gaze. As if in a daze, Dorian drank in the magenta glow of Link's rib cage and clavicle beaming between the tatters of his shirt. His skeleton radiated in the dark with a rather brilliant, if not corrupted, light; it reflected in the old man's eyes, almost hypnotizing him. He had never seen anything so darkly bizarre in his life.

Link finally ripped him out of his stupor when he asked, "Dorian, what are you doing up this late? It's nearly three in the morning."

A muscle in Dorian's jaw worked as he blinked back into lucidity. Finally, he replied, "I heard about the thief. If what they said is true, that a Yiga did this…" He trailed off, looking on toward Impa's house. Embers of hatred smoldered in his eye. "...Then I won't rest until that fiend is dead at my feet."

He looked intently back to Link, continuing, "I heard someone run past my house just now — sounded like they were in a hurry. I've got a gut feeling that that was that filthy Yiga." His eyes then wandered to the sword on Link's hip, where he wondered, his voice grim, "I take it you're going after him?"

Link gave a resolute nod. "I am."

There came a pause before Dorian smirked. It startled Link, but he shook it off.

"Then I'm coming with you," the Sheikah stated. "No Yiga scum sets foot in my village without answering to my blade."

Another pause followed as Link shifted his feet. He suddenly found himself at war with his thoughts. On one hand, he had grown suspicious — Dorian's current demeanor was a complete tonal shift from the hostile man he had argued with earlier that day. What had caused this change of heart? The threat to the village, perhaps? He wasn't sure. And though Link admired Dorian's resolve in the face of his injuries, he hesitated to accept his proposal. He didn't want to bring more harm to the old man than he had already dealt himself — the last thing he needed was another broken limb. Hylia forbid he was killed.

He wasn't sure what to think. Link, his mind a maelstrom, chose his next words carefully, hand-picking them before Dorian inevitably tore them to shreds.

"Listen… Dorian… I appreciate your offer," he began timidly. "But... what about your arm? I wouldn't want you getting hurt — er… _worse."_

Link quickly regretted expressing his concern. Dorian's eyes widened, his nostrils flaring — he looked about to burst with rage, but he somehow contained himself.

Taking a deep breath, he glowered at Link for a few moments before growling, "Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do. Not here." His brows knit together. "This is personal. I'm sure you understand _that,_ don't you?"

Link swallowed a rock that had lodged in his throat. He shrugged a shoulder. "Y-yes. I suppose I can." He collected himself, nodding — either to himself, or to Dorian, he wasn't sure. No matter what he said, it seemed Dorian wouldn't take no for an answer.

"All right, then," Link finally complied. "We'll find him together. Do you have a weapon?"

Dorian replied, his gaze unflinching, "I am armed. Don't you worry about that."

Link, beginning to sweat for some reason, gave a nervous smile. He believed him, even though he couldn't see whatever he was carrying. He just hoped it would be enough to stand against the thief, whoever — or whatever — they turned out to be.

"Good. Great. Erm…" Link trailed off, his mind wandering. As he looked over Dorian's shoulder toward the shadow-logged path through the village, Link failed to notice the old man's smirk gaining a darker edge.

Link's mind was too preoccupied with his next moves — with Dorian at his side, he had to rethink things. Now, he had a light to guide him, as well as a local eye. Perhaps Dorian's company would prove fruitful?

Link sighed through his nose, preparing himself. He turned his eyes back to Dorian. Though it was a long-shot, he asked, "You didn't happen to _see_ the thief, did you?"

Dorian's smirk vanished just as Link returned his attention to him. He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, no, but I heard his steps. Heavy steps, not like anyone's around here. Sounded like they were headed up the trail out of the village." He gestured his lantern behind him. "Come, we should be able to catch him before he flees."

For a brief moment, as he stared at the old Sheikah, Link's gut bloomed with a sensation he couldn't name. It was septic, and it frothed within him, twisting his insides. Something didn't feel right. Chalking it up to nerves, he brushed the feeling aside.

"Right," he replied, striding past Dorian. "Let's go."

Dorian followed him without a word.

The pair set off into the night, walking near enough to each other to paint their feet in the light of Dorian's lantern, all the while maintaining an arm's-length between them. They crossed the large courtyard and began to ascend the trail before taking a left at a split in the path. Apart from their wet footsteps, they traveled in total silence, both of their stomachs churning with anticipation at what was to come.

As they trekked up a steep, sloping switchback overlooking the village, Link's mind swirled with the machinations of his imagination. He began to envision what he believed the thief to look like, based on Paya's description. He was tall, foreboding. Cruel. Only he didn't have a face — Link couldn't piece together one that would suit someone so vicious. Part of him cowered at the image, but another part, much more courageous than the other, vowed to stand up to him and deal the terror and pain he had stricken into Paya back tenfold. He felt it was his duty to the village to do so.

After all, if he hadn't have entered Kakariko, he wouldn't have brought the Slate with him — the Slate that had sparked the chain of events that had led him to that moment.

Even with the courage flowing in his veins, Link still grew more and more anxious to meet his adversary with each step. At that point, as his curiosity overcame him, he risked a question to his companion.

"Dorian," he began quietly. "Thanks again for coming along. I'm grateful. But I'm curious… Do you have any idea what we're up against?" Dorian's ears perked up. "Because… I've been hearing about this... Yiga… but I don't know much about it. What is it, exactly?"

For a moment, it appeared that Dorian had ignored him. But the scowl that eventually found the old man's face curdled Link's blood — it almost mutated the man before him, embittered by a history he didn't know… and one he dared not ask about.

Dorian's eyes clouded over, his knuckles straining around the lantern handle. He snarled through his teeth, "Of course you wouldn't know what they are. Just my luck… They're _not_ a single person, the Yiga. If they were only one, I would have sliced their head from their shoulders years ago..." He shook his head, continuing, "No, the Yiga are a _Clan_ — a collective group of murderous, conniving thieves and slanderers, all swearing allegiance to Ganon."

A chill shuddered Link's spine at Ganon's name. He could only listen in uncomfortable silence as Dorian explained, "Long ago, the Yiga were founded by a group of radical separatists, claiming Ganon to be their leader. They grovel at his feet like sycophants, relishing in death and the pain of others. They take what they want and keep what they steal, regardless of who stands in their way."

He paused, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. "The Yiga are among the vilest creatures of Hyrule, second only to Ganon himself… If I had my way, they would be hunted down and killed like the dogs they are."

He suddenly turned his head and glowered at Link. The glow from the lantern cast his wicked expression with harsh shadows that made him look inhuman for a moment, replaced by a creature of hate.

"I will not forgive this," Dorian snapped. "This should never have happened. I'm here to make sure it never happens again." He looked Link square in the eye. "Make no mistake about that."

Link cringed away almost invisibly, his skin crawling. Somehow, he felt that _he_ was the intended target of Dorian's biting words. But perhaps he was just being paranoid? Even if they were only words, he still endeavored to steady his heart in the wake of Dorian's exposition. He abruptly found himself thankful he had Cado's sword on him. Now that they were well away from the village — alone — he feared for the worst if he didn't. He held it as if it were a lifeline.

Their pace had slowed as Dorian spoke. "You, er, seem to know a lot about them," Link mumbled, only to immediately grimace, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

Dorian stopped cold, his eyes catching fire. _"What exactly are you implying?"_ he growled, glaring down his nose at Link, who had ground to a halt as well. "Hm?"

"N-nothing, I just — " Link tried to say.

"Just _what?_ " Dorian demanded, bearing down on him. "You think I'm a Yiga, do you? Well?! _Do you?!"_

Link, shrinking away, stammered, "No, no, of course not! I-I would never! You're not like them. Not at all. You love your people. Your village. Your daughters." He gulped down hard beneath Dorian's volatile stare, his face burning. "Y-you would do anything to protect them. And I admire that." He shook his head. "You're not a Yiga, Dorian — I know that."

The Sheikah held Link in his gaze for a suffocating, almost eternal, moment. The fire in his eyes was enough to melt Link's resolve into a puddle of nothing.

Finally, he blinked and gave a huff, snarling, "I am not a Yiga. Don't you _ever_ mistake me for one of those devils."

He pulled back and stared Link down just long enough to throw the poor Hylian's heart into irregularity. Satisfied with his response, Dorian then gestured his lantern up the path, stating, "Now, I believe we have a job to do. Let's get to it before the thief makes off with what he stole, shall we?"

Link nodded, his voice lodged in his throat. He wanted to hurl himself off the cliff for letting that slip. As he fell in stride beside Dorian, he cursed himself; he couldn't seem to get along with the old man no matter how much he tried. It seemed that everything that came out of his mouth only threw off his rage.

They resumed their journey in stiff silence. As they climbed the final switchback above the village, the trail abruptly dissolved into the grass, giving way to a thick wall of shadowy trees crowning the crest of the mountainside. Dotted amongst the undergrowth were troops of bioluminescent mushrooms emitting faint light. Nearby, a small, reverent river burbled, speckled with raindrops — it cleaved the glade in two, joined together by a thin bridge.

Link and Dorian paused and checked their surroundings. The thief had either fled into the heart of the trees, or across the bridge and into a dead end. Link figured the former was more likely — he turned and was about to head into the thickets when Dorian stopped him.

"There. Lakna woods," he said, pointing to the thinner grove of trees beyond the river. "Across the bridge. He should be there."

Link squinted at the sparse trees beyond, his mind hitting a wall. "But there's hardly any cover, there," he said, his brows furrowing. "Don't you think he would have ran to the deep woods to escape?"

When he came around to meet Dorian's eyes, he froze. Dorian held him again in his unflinching glare — it was almost like a vise grip around his throat, holding him hostage.

The old man's expression was stone-like when he grumbled, "No. He is in Lakna woods. I know it."

Link couldn't help but stare at him. The confidence in his voice was… uncanny. Part of him immediately gave in to his commands for fear of being berated, but the other part roiled with doubt.

"How can you be sure?" Link prodded. "You said you hadn't seen him."

Dorian hesitated only slightly, his eye twitching. He seemed to reply through his teeth when he said, "No — but I know how the Yiga operate. _You don't._ Trust me when I say that the thief is there."

Link couldn't understand his reasoning. He seemed to be depending on a hunch. Carefully, he replied, "I'm sorry, but I disagree. I think we should check the deep woods first, before he gets away."

Dorian ground his jaw and shifted his feet, growing frustrated. He thrust his lantern toward the bridge again, his voice harsher than before. "Look, do you want to catch him, or not?!"

"I do!" Link replied, raising his hands. The action only put Dorian on edge further, and his body locked up. Link followed suit. He looked the old man up and down for several moments, trying to read him. Why was he being so stubborn about this? He couldn't comprehend it.

Link, beginning to cede to Dorian's bizarre confidence, continued, "I want to catch him. And I will." Pursing his lips, he then gave Lakna woods a second glance, fighting against more waves of doubt. "If you say he's there, then... perhaps we can take a look."

He didn't believe the thief had fled to those thin woods, but he supposed checking wouldn't hurt if they were quick. And yet, something still rooted him in his place. It was back, again. That noxious sensation eating at his stomach. Something wasn't right. But try as he might, he couldn't bring his mind to name what it was, and it was beginning to drive him mad.

In the end, he chose the safer route; anything to avoid another explosive argument. Without another word, Link forced his feet forward and motioned for Dorian to follow him, making his way toward the bridge. It was a thin bridge, so Link took point.

As he proceeded across it, he fought the feeling off, again. But it lingered. It was like an unscratchable itch beneath his skin. With every step he took, the feeling inside him crescendoed from a nagging flutter to full-fledged throes of nauseating, bubbling bile. His gut screamed at him to turn back.

But why?

When they reached the other side of the bridge, Link spotted something in the trees ahead. It was blurry in the rainy darkness, but it stood out amongst the canopies: a deep red color, much larger than any possible fruit or animal that could have been there. He couldn't say for certain, but he thought he could make out a humanesque figure seated in one of the branches.

Then he looked harder, training all three of his eyes on it. There was no mistaking it. Someone was reclined in a tree at the edge of the glade, casually swinging their leg from a bough, and they were fiddling with something in their hands. Something aglow with a crimson light.

The Sheikah Slate.

Link's heart plummeted into his boiling stomach. The thief. It was him.

All at once, Link's mind burst with panic and shock, his veins lighting up as he prepared himself to face him. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mind buzzing, spurring his thoughts along at breakneck speeds and swirling his insides into an anxious slurry.

Gods above, the thief really _was_ here. But how had Dorian known _precisely_ where he would be? Intuition? A lucky guess? But he had been so sure... It was almost as if… No. That couldn't have been…?

Behind Link, Dorian had stopped as well, his eyes trained, unblinking, on the back of his head. While Link's mind was thrown into chaos, he was completely unaware that his companion was carefully setting down his lantern. Slowly, he reached into his coat, removing something bright and sparking with energy, before sneaking closer to Link.

Meanwhile, Link, unable to pry his gaze from the faint figure beyond, instinctually reached for the sword on his hip. He began, "Dorian…! How did you — _!"_

His voice was throttled when Dorian suddenly thrust something into his back. Jolts of crackling electricity pumped into his body in an unrelenting wave, his muscles convulsing without his control. His hair sprung on its end, his heart and lungs stuttering from the raw energy surging through his cells and blood vessels. He gave a guttural grunt of pain, unable to coax his spasming limbs to escape.

Dorian held his Thunderstorm Rod in Link's back for a solid three seconds before retracting it. Without hesitation, he plunged his foot into the base of Link's spine, sending him face-first into the mud. He was still twitching when Dorian knelt, set aside the rod, and pulled a pair of shackles from his coat. Link, helpless to fight back, could merely watch through the corner of his eye as the old Sheikah chained his wrists together at his back.

" _D-Dorian — w-w-what are you doing?!"_ Link stuttered, fighting to gain control of his body again. _"I d-don't underst-stand!"_

The Sheikah tightened the shackles till they bit into his skin. He sneered down his nose at Link, growling, "I'm setting things right. For me, for my village, _and_ for Hyrule. Now shut up and let me do my job."

Horrified, Link gasped, _"What?!"_

Dorian didn't allow him another word. He raised his head, stood, and firmly planted his foot on Link's head, pressing him into the mud.

"IZER!" Dorian roared to the rain. "Come out! I'm here."

Link watched in paralyzed, slack-jawed dread as the figure in the tree turned his head. He secured the Sheikah Slate on his belt and dismounted the branch lithely, beginning to make his way over.

It was all happening faster than he could process it. Link couldn't put together what he was seeing — what for the rain and the sparks still darting around his brain. But with Dorian's insistence on this location, as well as the thief's compliance, it seemed as though this meeting was… premeditated. He wasn't sure which facet of his situation terrified him the most: the fact that he was staring down the thief, defenseless, or that Dorian was willingly handing him over to him.

How could he do this?! It didn't make any sense. They had gone together to take down the thief — why was Dorian selling him out? As much as he tried to sprain his brain to understand his reasoning, Link couldn't dwell on it, his mind wrenching him back into the moment.

He gulped down a mouthful of cold fear as he beheld the Yiga. He strode forward with a proud, strong gait, his fists swinging at his sides. The closer he approached, the taller he seemed to grow, eclipsing the surrounding saplings. He sported an intimidating, blood-red uniform: form-fitting, it hugged the mounds of rock-solid muscle bulging from his broad shoulders down to his sculpted, powerful legs. He came equipped with spiked gauntlets, a gold pauldron, and a colossal, sheathed sword hanging from his belt beside the Sheikah Slate. The only distinguishing physical feature on him was the plume of black hair sprouting from the hood over his head, as a pale mask shielded his face from view.

Link had no time to register that the Sheikah Slate was within his reach. No, his blood physically chilled when he caught sight of the symbol painted on the thief's mask. It was the all-too-familiar Sheikah eye, only… it was flipped. Somehow, the inverted symbol possessed an unrelenting stare of its own that pierced Link's chest with an icy knife, making his heart unravel. He suddenly found himself struggling to breathe in the thief's shadow.

He nearly choked when the Yiga spoke, his mask turned toward where he lay in the mud.

"Oh, Dorian, Dorian, what did you do?" the thief chuckled, his voice smooth, deep, and deceptively pleasant. He spoke as casually as if he were being presented with a surprise gift. He cocked his head and spread his hands, repeating, "What did you _do?"_

Dorian was less than impressed. He was easily a few heads shorter than the Yiga, but that didn't keep him from standing up to him. He merely scowled when he came to a stop before them. "I don't have time for your small talk," he grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

The Yiga cast up his palms with a shrug. "Hey, no need to rush me, old man. _You're_ the one who called me up here at this godforsaken hour." A pang of horror stung Link's stomach at that, his eyes widening.

Now that pleasantries were aside, the Yiga continued, gesturing to Link, "I take it this is your… _beast…_ you told me so much about?"

Dorian gave a mute nod.

Intrigued, the Yiga sunk low to the ground, where he peered at Link for a moment; he could feel his eyes on him through the mask, drinking in every detail he could see, as Link's face was half-submerged in mud.

Finally, the Yiga shrugged. "Doesn't look like much to me. Why don't you prop him up and let me have a look, old man? Just, uh, try not to hurt yourself doing it," he added with a smirk in his voice.

Dorian scoffed and ground his teeth, but nevertheless obeyed. Seizing a handful of Link's ponytail, he yanked him upright, presenting him, on his knees, before the Yiga. Link have a grunt in protest, but found himself immediately silenced when he came face-to-face with the thief himself.

Link's breath caught as the two of them locked gazes. Again, the twisted stare of the thief's mask unnerved him — he trembled beneath it as though it were hungrily sifting through his mind and body, pulling him apart. As thick droplets of rain rinsed the mud from Link's bone mask, the Yiga drew his head back in awe, a small gasp escaping his lips. He leaned forward, his eyes running from the tips of Link's horns, to the third eye set in his forehead, and down to his skeleton shining brilliantly through his torso.

"What'n the name of…?" the Yiga breathed, reaching for him. He slid his fingers beneath the sopping remains of Link's shirt and tore it completely down the middle, fully exposing his body. Link flinched back against the thief's touch as he ran his fingers down his chest, tracing along his ribcage with fascination.

Link, finding his breath again, spat at him through clenched teeth, _"Don't touch me."_

His words caught the Yiga by surprise, making him jump back a little as if broken out of a trance. He glanced up to Dorian briefly, snorting, "...So it talks. Well, color me impressed." He turned his gaze back to Link, asking politely, "Tell me, what's your name, _beast?"_

Link responded with a snarl. "Link. Now tell me who you think you are."

The thief rested his elbows on his knees, watching him for a moment. Eventually, he introduced himself. "I am Izer, elite Blademaster of the Yiga Clan. And I can't tell you how honored I am to meet you, Link. I've been waiting for this moment my whole life, if you can believe it."

"I don't," Link hissed.

Izer took Link's anger in-stride, replying coolly, "Good, because I'm not gonna bore you with my life's story, anyway. No, I'm here for _you."_ He aimed a thumb to Dorian. "Dorian here's told me all about you. How you claim to be the hero I've been waiting for. How you barged into Kakariko, terrorized the little villagers, and snapped his arm like a twig."

Izer made grand, sweeping gestures with his hands as he spoke, painting Link's mind with his own actions over the last few days. It was like he was playing around inside Link's head — and he hated every second of it.

With a chuckle, Izer went on, "At first, I thought he'd finally gone senile — I mean, look at him — but… now that I get a look at you… ooh, I can see it. I bet you scared their little sandals off. Man, I wish I coulda seen that." He then reached for something on his belt. "But what I can't grasp is that you did all that… for this?"

He brought the Sheikah Slate forward.

Link couldn't hold back the desperate lurching deep inside him, then — he groaned and surged forward as if something were tugging at him from within. In spite of his reaction, Dorian's hand remained steady, straining against his ponytail and holding him back. In that same moment, the Slate flashed with crimson light and chirped, startling Izer to the point that he nearly dropped it.

Pausing, he turned it over in his hand, musing, "Huh. Would you look at that?" He looked to Link, almost waving it in his face. "The old man wasn't lying — you really, really want this, don't you?"

Another swell of violent desire pushed Link forward. He grimaced against the fire in his lungs, his thoughts clouding over. "Give it back. Please."

But Izer didn't. Instead, he rose to his feet, beginning to stroll around Link and Dorian like a wolf, his thoughts connecting. "Interesting…" he murmured, admiring the Slate.

"Y'know," he contemplated aloud. "In the short time I've had with this, I've realized something. There's something inside this device… Something _obsessed_ with you." He knelt at Link's side, brandishing the Slate by his jaw. As he spoke, the Slate continued to give off spurts of light. "Even now, it clamors for you, desperate and wild. It needs you to survive. Needs your life, your breath, your blood. Without you, it will die. After seeing you, I can understand why…"

He ignored Link's squirming, holding the Slate before his face. Link had no choice but to turn his eyes on its screen, taking in the jumble of glyphs that were repeating endlessly across its surface in a frantic cry for help — a cry that echoed throughout his every cell in feverish unison.

"See those symbols, Link?" Izer cooed. Link's spine rattled at the way he said his name. "They're ancient Sheikah writing. Can you read them? What do they say?"

For some bizarre reason, Link understood them. He had never seen them, yet he understood them. He didn't like what was looking back at him. All the same, he refused to humor Izer — he was enjoying seeing him writhe, and he wouldn't give him the pleasure of a response. He firmed his mouth into a frown, wresting his gaze away.

Izer suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him forward, threatening, _"Tell me what it says._ I seem to have forgotten my ancient Sheikah."

Link, staring into the Slate, read back the single word repeating on the screen.

"Master."

It fell quiet for a moment. Thunder rumbled overhead. Even the Sheikah Slate had ceased screeching, perhaps cognizant of Link's presence.

Izer eventually spoke up, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Master, indeed. And it's written all over you, from those little horns…" he drifted off, tapping a fingertip on one of Link's horns. He then unsheathed Cado's sword from Link's hip and drew its blade across his abdomen in a split-second motion, making him flinch. Link gasped against the thin line of his glowing magenta blood oozing out of his skin.

Izer cast the sword aside, lapping up the sight of Link's blood, his voice low and hungry. "...allllll the way down to the Malice coursing through those veins. By god, if that ain't beautiful, I don't know what is." He placed the Sheikah Slate back onto his belt, murmuring, "Ooh, I cannot _wait_ to take you back to base."

Link's face twisted into a caustic glare. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he spat, his jaw clenched. "You hurt Paya."

His remark gave Izer pause. He slowly leaned toward Link, purring, "Only a little."

He didn't even flinch when Link jerked forward, his breath rushing in and out of his bared teeth— Dorian held him back by the hair, again, reining him in.

" _You'll pay for that!"_ Link snarled, his veins alight. _"I swear it!"_

Ignoring his outburst, Izer gave Link one last look-over and took to his feet, diverting his attention back to Dorian, who had flushed paler.

"I'll take him," Izer announced, much to the boiling of Link's blood.

Dorian's eyes tightened. "You remember our deal. The beast for the Slate. Now hand it over."

Izer fell statue-still, the stare of his inverted Sheikah eye delving into Dorian. Despite the Yiga's intimidating presence, Dorian held his ground.

...Until Izer spoke again.

"How old are your girls, now, old man? Getting big, I bet," he mused.

Both Dorian and Link's brows furrowed at his strange response, the Sheikah taking a step back. Without missing a beat, Izer continued, "It sure would be a shame if today was the last time they saw their daddy… after he dumped them on his neighbors so he could conspire with a Yiga, no less."

Link, his breath suddenly shallow, turned his eyes up to Dorian. He looked about to be sick, his face as white as his beard.

"I don't think you heard me, before," Izer went on, creeping towards them. "I said I'll take him." Crossing his arms, he stuck his mask into Dorian's nose. "Deal's off, old man. Your usefulness has come to an end, as must you. Give my love to your wife, won't you?"

As much as he despised him, Link had to give Izer his dues. The man, as tall, bulky, and imposing as he was, moved like a bolt of lightning. Before Dorian had time to even consider reacting, Izer thrust his palms into his sling with an audible _crunch,_ shoving him over with enough force to split his fractured arm again.

Dorian hit the ground in a howling heap, clutching his sling. Link, barely braced for what was ensuing, froze in Izer's shadow as he loomed above him. Almost as if in slow motion, he watched him sidestep around him, unsheathe his enormous sword, and lunge toward Dorian, his blade aimed at his forehead.

Something overcame Link, then, bursting within his gut. It kick-started his muscles with an exhilarating rush. He sprung to his feet, tucked his knees to his chest, and brought his shackled hands from behind his back, under his feet, and around to his front in an almost effortless, fluid movement. Just as Izer's sword arced down to meet Dorian, Link stepped between them and shoved his hands skyward, the chain of his shackles catching Izer's blade.

The clang of metal on metal rang in their ears, destroying the silence and stiffening their spines. Three sets of eyes flew to the sword against Link's shackles. Izer himself, stood, stunned, while Dorian lay on the ground in similar condition, eyes wide and breathless. For a nearly eternal second, nobody moved.

Regaining control of himself, Link took advantage of Izer's stupefaction and sunk his heel into his stomach. Though he was solid as a wall, Link still sent him stumbling.

Following a quick glimpse at Cado's sword in the grass, Link clenched his fists and forcibly tore his wrists away from the other with a powerful shout. His muscles bulged and strained, sending bits of metal spraying in all directions as he shattered his shackles like they were nothing. Without his bonds to hinder him, he stooped, swept up the sword, and took a stance to face Izer.

He found the thief had taken a similar stance: knees sturdily apart, sword drawn. They watched each other for a brief moment before Izer tilted his head and whistled, bemused.

"Well, well, well!" he said. "That was impressive, I'll give you that. What else have you got?"

Link tightened his grip on Cado's sword. "Enough to send you back to whatever hole you crawled out of," he replied, glaring him down.

Izer shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "Oh, don't start playing hero with me, kid. You're not seriously gonna stand up for that turncoat back there, are you? What's he ever done for you, huh? He only looks out for himself."

Link risked a fleeting glance to Dorian behind him. The man lay, petrified, in the grass at his feet.

"Trust me, kid," the Yiga went on. "Dorian is no stranger to betrayal. He'd do this again in a heartbeat if it meant saving his own skin. Word to the wise? Never trust a friendly face — their smiles are always crooked."

Link's blood curdled at Izer's words. He _had_ trusted Dorian. Perhaps too prematurely. He found himself scowling at the old man, his insides twisting against themselves. Part of him knew that Izer had a point — Dorian had done nothing but make his life a nightmare. He assaulted him, battered him, vowed to kill him. Betrayed him. Why should he risk his life for him?

That was enough reason for Link to consider stepping aside and allowing Izer to finish what he started. But a small voice in his head nagged at him; it felt wrong, letting him face the end of Izer's blade. Not when he had a family, a village, _children_ that needed him… Who was he to pass on that judgement?

Izer's voice crept back into Link's mind, nudging at his doubts. "Don't waste your time on him, Link. You've got a greater purpose. It runs through your veins." He brandished the Sheikah Slate, again coaxing something within Link. "Come with me," he promised, "and I'll make sure you get this back. It needs you. _Calamity Ganon_ needs you."

A shiver rolled through Link's spine, his skin tingling. Izer took notice and smiled, purring, "You were hand-picked for this role, kid. Think of what an honor that is! All you gotta do is stand down and come with me, and we'll make history. It's that simple."

Link's heart thrummed in his chest as he held Dorian's gaze. The man beneath him wasn't the vengeful traitor he had ascended the mountain with — no, he was weak, exposed, in pain. Terrified of the monster looming above him. The longer Link stood, the more his bitter expression slackened. He suddenly felt as though he was standing before Dorian's oldest daughter, again, driving her into mortal terror. He couldn't be that person — that _beast._ He just couldn't.

He pursed his lips, swallowing. "You're right," he said, to Izer's delight. "It is simple. And nothing you say can change the role I'm meant to play." Link whipped his head around to him, his eyes tight and a fire lighting in his stomach.

"But you're wrong about me. I am a champion of Hyrule. The Princess's knight," he proclaimed. Izer stiffened. "I may have failed to protect the kingdom once, but I won't fail again — no matter what I carry inside me." He aimed his sword at the Slate on Izer's belt. "I came up here to take back what you stole and make you pay. Stand down, or I'll strike you down myself."

Izer's shoulders slumped. He released a disappointed sigh. "You just had to go all goody-goody, didn't you?" Rolling his eyes, he huffed, "I really didn't want it to come to this, kid, but you leave me no choice. You're either coming back to base with me quietly, or I'm breaking your legs and dragging you. Take your pick."

Link remained stalwart, sword drawn and expressionless.

Izer straightened his posture. "Fine. Have it your way, _hero."_ He took a few careful steps forward, Link following suit. Pacing around the glade, he began, "All my life, I was spoon-fed your stories. I've waited a long time for this. Do not betray my expectations."

As ready as Link thought he was to face the Yiga thief, he quickly realized that he was grossly underprepared. Izer had no sooner uttered his last words before he was barreling towards him like a crimson storm.

He swung his sword with an almighty roar. Link barely managed to catch the blow with his own blade, underestimating Izer's strength — his knees buckled, the shockwave of his swing resounding through him like an earthquake.

Izer held Link there for a split second, grinning beneath his mask. He hadn't had an opponent like Link in a while. He would enjoy this.

Scraping his blade against Link's, he pulled back and swung again, aiming for his jugular. Link's sword again met his opponent's — he steadied himself that time, planting his feet on the ground. Trying to gain the upper hand, he grunted and threw his weight into his shoulders, pushing Izer off of him, advancing. With each swing of his sword, Link pushed Izer further toward the treeline, clanging and sparking as they went.

Izer snickered between blows, "I think your hundred-year beauty nap made ya soft, Link. Is that all you got?"

Link didn't dignify him with a response, though his words still stirred his hatred. He lunged forward, teeth bared and eyes alight, going for Izer's neck. The Yiga moved with an agility that didn't suit his bulky frame — he slunk out of the way, Link's momentum causing him to teeter. Regaining his footing, he whipped around, only not quickly enough. Before he could raise his sword to counter, the hilt of Izer's sword bored into his temple with a wet _thud._

Link cried out, stumbling. Through slightly-blurred vision he blindly swung his sword into open air. Izer steered clear, launching his boot into Link's side and sending him crashing into a nearby tree. The bark smashed against his ribs, the impact showering him with water droplets. Fighting against the blow, he opened his eyes to catch the silver blur of Izer's sword as it sped toward him. With reflexes even he couldn't explain, he ducked just as the sword sunk into the tree, lodging itself deep.

"Ah, crap," Izer grunted.

The tree groaned as he attempted to free his weapon. Seeing an opportunity, Link swung his sword at Izer's hip, only for the Yiga to catch the blade with his gauntlet.

"Not so fast — !" he jeered. He reared a leg and thrust his heel into Link's knee — it bent at a sickening angle, his bones visibly misaligning with a pop.

A hoarse wail ripped out of Link's throat. He dropped his sword, his hands flying to his knee, distracting him for a moment. Fortunately, Izer distracted himself, as well, diverting his attention to retrieving his own sword. Biting back the pain, Link rerouted his strength to his good leg and propelled himself into Izer, tackling him to the ground.

They struggled and rolled, knotted into each other. For a moment or two, Link had him by surprise, managing to land a few punches into his throat. Izer sputtered and choked beneath him, but quickly caught on. He snatched Link's fist before he could sink in another hit.

"Gotta hand it to you, kid," Izer grinned. "You just don't back down. I like that." With a hearty grunt, he forced both of their fists into Link's jaw. Link's head snapped back, his ears ringing. Through the stars dancing around his vision, he had no way to anticipate Izer's next move as he swung his center of gravity, upending them.

Izer flipped the two of them over until he was crouched above Link, where he bashed his head into the grass. Eyes rolling, Link clawed in vain at Izer's gauntlets as he wrapped both hands around his neck. Izer applied just enough pressure to keep him gasping, but not enough to make him black out. He wasn't finished with him, yet.

Now that he had him where he wanted him, Izer spoke again. "The Yiga Clan could use more fighters like you, Link. _Especially_ like you," he said, brushing his thumb against his Adam's apple. Link's blood burned in his veins. "You've put up quite a fight, but you could be _so much more._ Come back to base with me, and we'll mold you into what you're destined to become." Leaning in closer, he tightened his grip. "All I need is a yes."

"NO!" Link coughed, channeling his rage into landing a teeth-rattling kick to Izer's groin.

Izer howled in his face, his hold on him loosening in an instant. Link scrambled away as quickly as he could with his bad knee, a grin of crude satisfaction warping his lips. With Izer thoroughly preoccupied — he proceeded to fill the air with a string of expletives — Link sought out Cado's sword, lying somewhere in the grass.

He hobbled back to where he remembered dropping it — the tree with Izer's sword sticking out of it. His knee shrieked with even the slightest amount of weight he dared put on it as he made his way over, his face strained. Thankfully, the sword glittered up at him before he collapsed. Doubling over, he scooped it up and slumped against the tree trunk, ready to go another round.

That was when he noticed something. It had gone quiet. Too quiet. He could hear the rain, again, tapping against the leaves.

 _Wait,_ he panicked, his eyes flying to and fro. Then he noticed something else — something was missing. He abruptly found himself in an empty glade.

 _Izer was gone._

His heart, up until then hammering incessantly, skipped several beats. His jaw dropped. He cursed himself for turning his back on his opponent. Desperate to find him, again, he limped out a few steps into the clearing, his head rotating left and right. Where could he have gone?

Link nearly jumped out of his skin when a terrific blast pounded his ears. He whirled around in time to see Izer materialize like a ghost out of a burst of smoke, flying at him with a ferocious warcry. While Link's back was turned, he had reclaimed his sword. It gleamed evilly as he swung it like a madman, over and over.

Their swords clashed with a shower of sparks. Five, six, seven times. Link scarcely caught one blow before Izer delivered the next, hacking away at his blade. With each step back he took against Izer's advancement, his knee wobbled and twinged with pain. It was all he could do to both hold himself up and block his attacker, praying he wouldn't lose his footing.

Izer brought his sword down one more time, holding it there. He leaned against his blade, bearing down on Link until he started to sweat, his muscles groaning.

"That was a dirty move, kid," Izer hissed. "I didn't think good guys like you played dirty." Pausing, he cocked his head, continuing, "But... you're not a good guy, are you? Nah, you're just playing pretend!"

He plunged his knee into Link's gut, cutting off his attempt at a rebuttal. Link sprained his arms to shake him away, but the Yiga forced his weight upon him. His knee and his sword began to creak, his knee threatening to give out. He'd be a goner if he let that happen.

In a last-ditch effort to push him off, Link swerved his shoulders, their swords grinding together. But he was losing steam — he didn't have the strength to fully shove him away.

Izer, however, was running on rage. Undaunted, he raised and plunged his sword into Link's once more with all his might. Link's body held, but his sword didn't. The harrowing sound of splintering metal met their ears. Before their eyes, Link's sword fragmented, leaving behind a ragged stump of metal.

Izer didn't hesitate to finish off his prey. He beat away the broken sword with the back of his hand, swinging his fist in a wicked arc into Link's cheek. He stumbled, dazed, his brain sloshing in his skull. He nearly bit the tip of his tongue off when Izer kneed his chin, his head whiplashing into his shoulders. For his final blow, Izer brutally kicked Link in the ribs, sending him crashing, end over end, several feet until he rolled to a stop on his front.

A croak of pain slithered out of Link's throat. He raised his head, his eyes pinched shut against the sickening throbbing between his temples.

Izer drank in the sight of him lying limp in the grass. "And here I thought you'd actually prove to be a challenge," he spat. "Some hero you think you are. You can pretend all you want that you're gonna save this godless kingdom, but you'll _fail._ Just like you did one hundred years ago."

Link peeled his eyes open, a scowl finding his battered face. "I won't," he groaned. _"I won't fail."_

"Yes, you will," Izer said. "There's no use fighting what's been placed inside you. You've seen its power, felt its rage. And no matter how much you try, and crawl, and squirm to disobey him, _you will fail."_

As Link glared at Izer, something foul brewed inside him. It was thick and volatile, growing more and more unhinged with every syllable that came out of the Yiga's mouth. Link's fists knotted up, and he began to drag himself to his hands and knees with a newfound strength, his pulse thudding in his ears. His body shook, the glow of his bones gradually growing more intense.

"I won't," he repeated, his voice taking on something that wasn't him.

" _Yes, you will!"_ Izer fired back.

Whatever was brewing within Link detonated at that, flowing through him like an all-encompassing flood. It deluged his blood with adrenaline, electrifying his every cell in a spectacle of fury he had never felt before. His anger mutated inside him, manifesting itself in a twisting, tentacle-like mass of Malice-laced black sludge that burst out of his shoulder and coated his arm like a living weapon. It was exhilarating.

" _NO, I WON'T!"_ Link roared like a beast.

Oblivious to his injuries, he dove forward, thrusting his Malice-arm straight at Izer. The thief only had the time to take in a split-second gasp before Link's Malice punched clean through his abdomen, tearing through muscle, organ, and bone like an avalanche.

Link ground to a halt, dangling Izer in the air. In a blind frenzy, he began to drag him across the glade, bashing him into trees. The Yiga became a human battering ram, his body breaking with every branch, trunk, and bough he bulldozed through. The combined noise of wood splintering and bones shattering sent the local wildlife scattering.

By that point, Izer had fallen limp. Link, consumed by his anger, was swept out of his tunnel vision when he noticed Izer's limp form impaled on the end of his Malice-arm. He abruptly came back to himself, gazing in horror at the abomination coming out of him.

"Stop — STOP! Oh, god, STOP!" he cried, clawing at it with his normal hand. It was thick and sinewy like muscle. It felt so wrong, and yet… so right.

Somehow, his change of heart dismantled it — it shivered and fell apart, dripping into the grass and dropping Izer. Link was overcome with a wave of vertigo. He collapsed, struggling to find his breath amidst his accelerated heartbeat and visceral horror at what he had just done.

He sat for a moment, crushed beneath the silence. Then he heard a faint sound, almost like wheezing. It crescendoed into hacking, bloody coughing that yanked his attention to its source: the now-moving figure of Izer.

Link gaped at him, stirring where he lay. The Yiga hauled himself up on his elbows, shaking uncontrollably, his eyes behind his battered mask finding Link. He found with shock that Izer's countenance had completely changed — he wasn't coughing. He was _laughing._

" _Incredible!"_ he wheezed. "You — absolutely incredible!" He began to drag himself across the ground with immense difficulty, grunting against his decimated skeleton and punctured organs. But they didn't stop him from creeping closer to Link, who was too paralyzed to move.

Izer successfully dragged himself within arm's-reach of him, croaking out, "You fail as a hero, but conquer — as a beast!" His hand shot out and grabbed hold of Link's ankle, cackling, _"Link, what's inside you?! Ahahahaha!"_

Link's stomach twisted and he jerked his leg away, scooting back. He had only made it a foot or so before he watched a shudder rip through Izer's body like a wave. He froze, his eerie mask fixed upon Link.

Izer's hand suddenly flew to the hole in his abdomen. He heaved, fighting against something rising up his throat. Without provocation, he proceeded to spit up a mouthful of something hot and thick into his mask. Link, disturbed, could only watch as he coughed up more of it, only for another swell of it to overwhelm him.

Izer flopped over, reaching for his mask and breathing heavily. He lifted his mask partially, exposing his mouth as he threw up a puddle of dense, black sludge onto the grass.

He fought to breathe around his rising horror. _"Link!?"_ he gurgled, turning his face to him. "Link, what did you do to me? _Urgh…!"_

A haunting moan of torture tore out of Izer as he began to writhe against the Malice bubbling inside him. His splintered spine arched, his fingers clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain. He screamed until blood filled his lungs. Like a voracious acid, the Malice Link had infected him with devoured his organs and bones, the ensuing slurry spilling out of his gaping abdominal wound and gushing out of his mouth between his screams.

Link couldn't help but join in with his screaming, backing away as fast as his limbs would take him. Izer, desperate for relief, crawled after him, reaching out for help.

" _Please — please!"_ he plead.

Link strained to pull his eyes away but couldn't bring himself to, for some reason. He ran his gaze up and down Izer's body, confused and horrified to see that his uniform was _deflating._ Link's Malice consumed his body from his muscle tissue down to his very skin, reducing him to the bubbling black and magenta sludge oozing across the grass. In the spanse of a brief minute, Izer's screams had faded into gurgles, his empty uniform falling flat in the last position he took: one arm outreached, begging for mercy.

And then he was gone.

Link stared, petrified, at what remained of the Yiga thief. Then he turned over and threw up.

* * *

 **OH MY GOSH, THAT WAS INSANE! What did you think?! Was it worth the wait?! I certainly hope so!**

 **It kinda bummed me out to introduce and kill Izer in the same chapter, but he certainly made waves. I don't think Link will forget his encounter with him. I know I won't! He was a joy to write.**

 **If you liked this chapter, I'd love to hear your feedback! Until then, I'll see you in the next chapter. :)**

 **Thanks for reading! You're THE BEST!**


	11. It Takes a Village

**I'M BACK, PEEPS.**

 **Okay, I've got to stop uploading these once a month... I'll do my best to keep the train rolling when it comes to updates. I hope you can forgive me for my wonky upload schedule! Summer's just thrown things out of whack...**

 **Anyway, I'll stop rambling. I hope that last chapter didn't horrify you too badly. Thank you for your wonderful patience through all of this and for your incredible support. It means the world to me and I love your feedback. :)**

 **I hope you enjoy this next chapter! This one, I hope, is a decent follow-up to the last one. That was _insane!_**

* * *

Link retched into the grass until his stomach shriveled. His breath, acrid with horror and bile, was little more than strangled wheezing as it slithered in and out of his ragged throat, barely satiating his lungs. In the aftermath of what he had seen — and what he had just done — his body and mind were wracked with an all-encompassing guilt that soured his blood and fragmented his psyche. Splayed across the ground, he shuddered against the poison running through his veins, his skull spiking to the bursts of his frantic heartbeat.

" _Oh, god…!"_ he whispered between gasps. _"Oh god, what have I done?! What have I done?!"_

He couldn't seem to take control of his breath no matter how much he grasped for it — he was beginning to grow faint. Perched on his elbows, he averted his gaze from his own vomit, wincing against the wailing of every fiber of his body. Endeavoring to settle his flaming insides, he spat and wiped his mouth, flopping onto his back.

The cloud-choked sky seemed to frown upon him. Nevertheless, it was a respite from the devastation around and inside him; he stared blearily into the sky, tangling his fingers in his soaking hair, his mind flayed by what he had just done.

By all accounts, he was lucky to be alive. Izer hadn't held back by any means, and neither had the explosive Malice within him. But as Link lay there, choking on his own deeds, he didn't count himself lucky. No, he was cursing his survival, somewhat envying the man he had just annihilated.

What had he done? The question consumed him from the inside out… just as it had to Izer. Breathing heavily between his teeth, he clawed into his scalp, pinching his eyes shut. Try as he might to purge his mind of it all, he couldn't escape the memory of his own carnage. Visions of Izer seared into his brain like an ever-marching onslaught — from his manic swordplay, to his body breaking against the trees, to his garbled screaming as he reached for him, melting alive.

Each memory scalded his resolve, filling every corner of his mind and body like a cesspool. It all served to remind him of the demonic power lurking beneath his skin. It slept for the moment, but his gut writhed with white-hot anxiety at the next time it would rear its hideous head. He prayed with all his soul that that day would never come — that he would never harm anyone else with it. He wasn't sure how he could live with himself if it ever happened again.

Izer. His first… victim. The lingering smell of his remains — smoky and viscous, like singed meat — clogged his senses. Yes, Izer had been cruel, but even so, he hadn't deserved to die. Not like that. Not at Link's corrupted hand. It only dawned on Link then and there that he hadn't even known what Izer looked like — somehow, that fact worsened it all. How could he kill a man without ever seeing his face? What kind of inhuman creature did that make him? He was afraid he knew the answer.

" _Oh my god…!"_ he repeated.

Link was so engrossed in his own horror that he had forgotten he wasn't alone. Out of the ghastly silence, a voice rasped, pulling him out of himself.

" _...You destroyed him."_

Link's heart nearly punched through his chest. Eyes flipping open, he sat bolt upright and whipped around. His spine seized up when his gaze found Dorian, pale as death, gaping at him from behind a tree a short distance away.

"You — !" Link gasped, his face contorting. He attempted to scramble to his feet, only for his knee to quickly remind him of his condition. Lightning darted up his leg and into his hip, paralyzing him. He crumbled onto his backside and leaned back, cupping his throbbing, deformed knee.

Locking his eyes on Dorian, he held up a quivering hand to stave him off. "Stay away from me!" he cried shakily, both as a warning, and as a desperate plea. "S-stay away!"

Dorian backed up a step, but not out of obedience; he feared whatever might burst out of Link next. He didn't want to end up like Izer.

His eyes wandered from the petrified creature before him to the surrounding wreckage, his jaw hanging open. It had been a spectacle, that fight. One that, for better or worse, he would never shake from his mind. He had been tempted to flee as soon as Izer and Link began exchanging blows, but found himself mystified by the two of them at arms. Unable to pry his eyes from the scene, he had taken cover and watched.

Twisted fascination held him there, but it was Izer's demise that petrified him into his place. The sight of a ruthless, unbreakable man like Izer begging for his own life numbed Dorian into a disturbed daze. What Link had done to him was, in every sickening aspect, unforgettable. _Incredible,_ even, as Izer had put it. Dorian had never seen anything like it, and he sincerely prayed he never would again.

He stared for as long as he dared at Izer's empty uniform before he gulped and looked back to Link. "I was right about you all along," he murmured. "You really are a monster."

Monster. _Monster._ The word was like a branding iron on Link's brain. His hysteria reached a fever pitch at it, his blood igniting, all three of his eyes beaming with a wild light.

" _And so what if you're right?!"_ he screamed, making Dorian jump. "That doesn't change what just happened! What I just did! NOTHING can, don't you get it?!" He waved an arm towards the Malice behind him. "Do you think I wanted this?! He didn't… he didn't deserve — !"

Suddenly breathless, Link found his gaze pulled over, like a magnet, back to the puddle that was the Yiga. He slapped a hand over his mouth, a wheeze of disgust wrenching his breath away.

That was his handiwork. _He had done that._ His stomach lurched again.

A thick, stifling silence settled upon the glade as Link fought to grasp his breath. _"...Why?"_ he finally wheezed, slowly turning back to Dorian. He shook his head, beside himself. "Why did this have to happen? Why did you bring him here?!"

The stark terror in Link's eyes pierced Dorian to his core; he couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze, turning his eyes into his sandals. Though his gut fought it, he supposed there was no hiding it, then. Izer had said and done enough, just as he had.

Defeated, Dorian hung his head, muttering, "Because I am… a member of the Yiga Clan."

A spontaneous hole gored Link's stomach at the revelation. He remembered vividly Dorian's own description of them — he had called them vile dogs, slanderers, murderers, thieves. And Izer had proved him right. But Dorian… he couldn't be…?

He refused to believe it. Link recoiled, gawking, _"What?_ No — no, you're lying. Y-you wouldn't do that. Not to Impa. Paya. Your _daughters._ You wouldn't." He stared Dorian down, convinced he was playing him for a crude joke. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

Beneath Link's gaze, Dorian suddenly lost the strength in his knees. He slumped against the tree. "...It was already done."

Link choked, gaping at him. The air around them transformed, sharpening — it sent a shiver up his spine. Words refused to come to him as he stared at the old man before him. It was like a bomb had gone off in his mind. Even with Izer gone, he suddenly feared he now had Dorian to contend with. Now that he knew his alignments, his body tensed in anticipation to flee — he just prayed he could get away with his bum leg.

Link never got the chance to risk an escape. He fell speechless as Dorian added, "Or... I used to be a member… before I deserted." His fist clenched and he wrinkled his nose. "I thought I had buried my demons. But the funny thing about demons is… they're like dogs. They come when they are called."

His words rattled Link's bones. "What are you saying?" he murmured.

A heavy moment of silence passed before Dorian could coax his tongue into speaking. It sat in his mouth, bitter and stubborn. Finally, and against his better judgement, he began to explain himself.

"The village turned on its head when you arrived," he said. "I hated it. I'm an old man, now, and… I've grown to hate change. In my anger, I thought that, if you were gone, things would go back to the way they were, when life made sense." His hand found his sling. "I couldn't run you out of Kakariko myself, and I was too impatient to see you through your stay, so… I turned to the Yiga. My old Clan. I wasn't even thinking of the consequences. I knew they would take you. I knew _he_ would take you."

Both of their eyes trailed over to Izer's remains. Dorian glowered at them, grumbling, "It was never meant to be like this. I was a fool not to foresee his betrayal; he hasn't changed after all these years."

Link shivered, a chill creeping through his skin. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He looked upon the puddle, breathing, "...You _knew_ him?"

For a moment, Dorian bit back the truth. He felt he had already said too much. But, like a flood, the ghosts of his past injected their venom into him, foaming his insides with the secret he had bottled up for over a decade. He stood numbly, his eyes on his feet, searching for something he couldn't find.

Link stared, his mind reeling, as the old Sheikah pursed his lips, releasing a sigh through his nose. He couldn't keep in the truth — not from Link. Not after what he had done. What they _both_ had done. Before his pride could stop himself, Dorian began to open up to Link.

"Yes, I knew Izer," Dorian said, his voice flat. He then snorted darkly. "I was several years into my pact with the Yiga when he was born. His mother was slain by a Gerudo warrior before he had even learned to walk. We all stepped in, but the boy took a particular liking to me. We became friends. He was an eager child, and a fast learner. I showed him how to swing a sword, told him the stories that had been drilled into my head — stories of a fallen hero who would one day return." Link cowered under his gaze when he turned it on him. "Stories of you."

Stupefied by his words, Link's brain sparked to imagine Izer as a child among those people. Innocent, moldable. _Corruptible._ He supposed that growing up in the Yiga Clan had made Izer the man he was, and the thought of it haunted him. But it was the notion that Dorian had a hand in doing so that made him even more sick with himself.

He could only listen as Dorian continued solemnly, "As the boy grew, he fed on those stories; he became consumed with the idea of killing you himself for the glory of Calamity Ganon. Something changed in him almost overnight. He began to take _too much_ pleasure in his deeds, killing for the fun of it, training night and day until he lived and breathed _Yiga."_

Dorian shuddered, his mind brewing. Shadows weighed down his eyes. "I was getting up in years, by that point; I mostly stayed at the hideout, tending to new recruits, when Izer volunteered us for a raid on Kakariko." He gave a humorless chuckle. "The boy was only sixteen. He wanted me to experience the thrill of raiding, again. I was hesitant, but he insisted. We, along with a few others, journeyed from the hideout to terrorize the village."

Pausing, Dorian looked beyond the treetops, his tired eyes glazed over with memories. "I hadn't seen my hometown for over twenty years by then. I found that my parents had long since moved out or died. Without them, I had no qualms with what we were doing. We stole into the village, setting fire to crops, chasing people out of their homes, all laughing like the maniacs we were. It was… exciting, I'm ashamed to admit. But as I broke into another home, that was when I saw… her."

He cut himself off, his shoulders sagging. Link, numbed by his history, watched in awe as Dorian hung his head and slowly sank to the ground, his back against the tree. He clung to his sling as if he were about to lose his grip on a cliff, squeezing his fracture as if punishing himself.

"My… Aiko…" he breathed.

A brief silence settled between them. Another chill rolled through Link at the name. "Who was she?" he asked quietly.

"...My wife," Dorian croaked. "The mother of my children."

Link's stomach dropped. He had no idea what to say. His words, and his heart, had stuck in his throat. He had honestly never thought about where Koko and Cottla's mother was. Judging by the way Dorian said her name, he could only assume the worst.

Through blurry eyes, Dorian went on. He cracked a small smile, sniffling. "W-when I snuck in, she bashed the back of my head with a wok. I hit the floor just as Izer joined me. He thought she had knocked me out, but I just laid where I had fallen, staring at her." His eyes glistened. "She was the single-most incredible person I had ever seen. Courageous. Beautiful. Headstrong… my Aiko."

Dorian, lost in his reveries, was quickly reminded of what came next. His blissful expression deteriorated until a wicked glare contorted his face, and he snarled, "Izer tried to slit her throat, but I jumped between them and fought him off. I remember turning back and catching her eyes as we were driven out of the village by guards. I'll never forget that look. She was scared. Of me. Of him. Of what we were doing." He raised his head, frowning. "I was disgusted with myself — I suddenly realized that I had made a horrible mistake, joining the Yiga Clan. I had to get out."

Dorian swallowed, his brow creased, as he looked upon Izer's remains, again. "He and I fought that night. And the night after. We didn't stop fighting until I packed up my things and deserted the Clan. I vowed to leave that life behind and start anew; I burned my uniform, buried my weapons, and made my way back home. To Aiko.

"It took me a long time to win her over. I explained myself, promised her I had cut ties, and helped repair the damage I had done to regain entry into the village." He smiled dryly, peering at Link. "Needless to say, my chores probably went more smoothly than yours. My efforts paid off — Impa let me back in. I only confided in Aiko, but that was enough. She saw beyond my past and agreed to marry me after I begged and begged."

"How long did that take?" Link wondered.

Dorian's smile widened a little. "Two years," he replied. "And the years that followed were the happiest of my life. I had it all: a peaceful life with my wife and neighbors, the excitement of raising our daughters. The joy of being a father and husband." He sighed blissfully. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

But his smile faded. The color drained from his face. "Except that… I did. When I turned you over to Izer. I wasn't thinking. Not then. Not ever. Not when I joined the Clan, not when… I thought I was free of them."

He paused, staring into Izer's mask, his eyes hardening. He saw something in it that made his veins seethe. "I should have seen him coming, but my quiet life had dulled my guard. Poor Cottla had been running a fever for a few days straight. Aiko was beside herself. I… gave her a break and watched over our daughter while she left to refill a bucket from the creek. I waited for her to return — waited too long. It was only when Cado pounded on my door that I knew something had happened."

Dorian swallowed the bitter ball of hatred that had formed in his throat. His shoulders shook, hot tears stinging his eyes. His gaze darkened, his voice shuddering as he growled, "He had sliced her open. It was all over the grass in a huge, awful ocean. He painted the eye of the Yiga on her stomach with her own blood."

Link's heart gave a cold, dead thud in his chest. He cringed away, the grisly image of a broken, bloodied woman he didn't know staining his mind and wringing his gut again.

"Dorian…" he began, nauseous. "I-I'm so sorry."

Dorian's eyes had fogged over. He barely heard Link. He didn't respond — he could only continue sharing his pain with him. "As I cradled her body," he said, staring into the Yiga's mask. "I spotted him on a rooftop, looking down on us, unmasked." He yanked his eyes from the mask and met Link's gaze, spitting, "The bastard _smiled_ at me."

Link's blood shot with ice, his eyes widening. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. He merely gaped at Dorian's past, slack-jawed, his body as numb as his mind.

It went quiet for a moment as they shared pained gazes. Dorian quickly looked away, his head sinking. "Aiko's death filled me with _rage._ I wanted Izer dead a dozen times over. I wanted to soak Hyrule's fields with the blood of the Yiga Clan. But he had me. He had earned his keep by killing her — risen to the rank of Blademaster. Now, he pulled the strings. He promised not to hurt my children, or anyone else in the village, if I resumed my work with them." He shook his head, gazing into nothing. "Since then, I have… abused my position as gatekeeper to feed the Yiga information, and I... I-I tried to give them _you._ How… how dare I… betray the entire kingdom?"

His voice withered in his throat as he sat, appalled, by the man he had become. The silence that followed crushed them into the soggy grass. As Link sifted through Dorian's wilted posture and shattered spirit, the old man changed before him — he saw him in a new light. He understood why things had happened the way they had between them. Why they had fought, why he couldn't seem to make amends with him. Why he had sold him out.

Something overcame Link, then, displacing his hysteria. Pity. And it only grew with Dorian's following words.

"I'm a coward, Link," he grumbled, hiding his face. "I'm a gutless, godless, worthless _coward._ I created a monster that I couldn't tame. But you… you slayed it." He raised his head, not even attempting to conceal the tears on his cheeks. "You accomplished what I couldn't and spared me for my mistakes, and for that… I owe you my life and my gratitude."

He got to his feet and carefully padded his way over to Link, his face drooping in a wounded frown. Link remained in his place, flinching only just when Dorian knelt before him, shook off his coat, and draped it over his shoulders.

The warmth of Dorian's coat seeped through his skin. Link, moved by his gesture, offered him a faint smile. Dorian returned it, but it was tainted with shame.

The Sheikah lowered his eyes, sighing. "I realize that you may not ever trust me again — I know I wouldn't — but trust me when I say that I am indebted to you. I…" He trailed off, the shreds of his pride holding back his words. Finally, he forced them out of his mouth. _"I'm sorry._ For everything. This was all my doing."

Link shook his head, his throat tightening. "No it wasn't," he replied. Dorian's head snapped up, his brows raised. Link gestured to Dorian's sling and over his shoulder to Izer's remains. "I did my fair share."

The memory of Link's outburst haunted both of them simultaneously, jittering their spines. After a moment, Dorian inspected Link's glowing bones, his brow furrowed.

"...You really can't control whatever's inside you, can you?"

Link swallowed his panic at the reminder of it. "No," he muttered, averting his eyes from Dorian's sling. "I can't. I'm sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it. I'm so sorry, Dorian."

To Link's shock, Dorian snorted, giving him a crooked smile. He clapped Link on the shoulder, chuckling, "Not as sorry as he was," while he motioned toward Izer's uniform.

A spurt of laughter bubbled in Link's stomach at his horribly dark humor. He found himself followed Dorian's morbid chuckling, and they proceeded to laugh together for a moment. Their laughter didn't last long, however. It died out quickly, their mouths flattening back into dull, emotionless lines.

Rain continued to patter around them, the tense atmosphere dispersing as Dorian looked Link square in the eye. He attempted to dismiss Link's worries, saying, "Don't worry about me, Link. I'm a stubborn old goat — always have been. My arm will heal. I hope that _you_ heal from this." He searched Link's eyes, delving deep. "It seems to me that you regret what happened here. _Do not_ regret what you did to him. Not for a second. _He deserved it."_

Link's throat cinched at his words. He had no idea how to respond. Part of him, after hearing Dorian's history with the Yiga, wholeheartedly believed that Izer had deserved his fate. Even so, another part of Link still reeled with horror at the brutal manner in which he had met it. And at his own hand, no less. His mixed morality only brought his gut to a confused boil.

In the end, he held his silence as Dorian cemented into him, "You did us all an immense service. You have no idea how soundly we will all sleep knowing that Izer is dead. Impa herself will tell you that."

Link released a shaky sigh, only then remembering the village he had set out to protect. "We do have to go and report back, don't we…?" he mumbled. For some reason he was afraid of facing Impa. Paya, too. How could he begin to explain what had happened on the mountain? How could he show his face after that?

Fortunately for him, Dorian had his back. It was a refreshing sensation, if he could say the least.

"We'll go down together," Dorian said. "You're going to need some help with that knee of yours, anyway. But, before we go, if I could ask you a favor…" Dorian paused and squirmed, stowing his pride, again. He turned his gaze away from Link, proposing, "I know it's a selfish request, but do you think you could keep what really happened a secret? I know don't deserve mercy — I don't even deserve yours — but I don't want my children to suffer anymore. The villagers neither. It won't make up for what I've done, but… I-I can't…"

He trailed off, struggling to find the words he needed. But Link didn't need to hear any more. He understood. Smiling, he carefully reached out and laid a hand on the Sheikah's shoulder, pulling his attention back to him.

"...We both have our demons. I can't really hide mine, but yours are safe with me," Link promised. Dorian's face softened. "As far as I know, we took out Izer together."

Dorian didn't thank him. Not verbally, at least. He laid his own hand atop Link's, smiling, his eyes stinging again. That was all Link needed from him. Somehow, it was enough to mend the rift they had wrought between them.

Before Dorian could lose control of his emotions again, he abruptly sniffed, wiped his eyes, and got to his feet. Without a word, he turned and faced Izer's empty uniform. During their conversation, the rain had washed away most of Link's Malice, leaving behind a misshapen patch of black, burned grass. Izer's uniform lay slapped across it, along with his mask and the Sheikah Slate. His sword jutted out of the ground a ways off.

Dorian spared no time in gathering what was left behind. He folded up the uniform, tucked it into his shirt, and strapped the sword to his back. Then, as carefully as if he were handling jagged glass, he picked up the Sheikah Slate and returned it to Link.

His face was rigid as he held it out to him. The device seemed to have a pulse in his hands. "I believe this is yours," he said.

Part of Link leapt to take it back, but he restrained himself. With shaking fingers, he took it from Dorian. He could have sworn he felt a zing of lightning dart into his fingertips the moment he grasped it. They both jumped when it gave a merry trill, almost as though it were happy to reunite with him. Link held the gaze of the crimson eye on its screen for a moment. The Slate seemed to know he was looking at it — a familiar set of glyphs appeared on the screen, greeting him.

 _Master._

He struggled to swallow a mouthful of panic before he wrenched his gaze away and latched it onto his belt, pushing it out of his mind. At long last, he had it back, again. He just wasn't sure whether that was a boon or a curse.

Ready to go, Dorian offered Link his hand. Both of them hesitated almost invisibly, worried about possibly provoking whatever slept inside Link. Ultimately, they shook it off, and Dorian helped pull Link upright. He wobbled, doing his best to balance on his good leg. He wasn't looking forward to making his way back down to the village.

Dorian held Link steady, inspecting his knee. The tangled, displaced knot of his glowing bones hung from his thigh like dead weight, his skin bloated and tender.

Dorian bared his teeth, wincing. "That doesn't look good… Come here, we'll take it slow."

Slinging his arm across Dorian's shoulders, Link hopped on his good leg while Dorian held him by the waist, tucking him close. It would have to do. Together, they left Izer's grave at their backs and set off for Kakariko.

The trek down was arduous. Between fighting against slipping on the slick, sloping switchbacks, to periodically pausing to give Link a chance to catch his breath, it was a miracle they made it down at all. Crossing the bridge was particularly nerve-wracking, but they managed it with a little patience. By the time they descended the final switchback and entered the village proper, Link thought his knee would explode, his hips ablaze. His face contorted while he gasped for breath, thick sheets of sweat mixing with the rain drenching him from head to toe.

Impa's house was within reach, but it might as well have been miles away. He blearily gauged the distance he'd have to walk alongside Dorian and nearly collapsed. Thankfully, Dorian held him fast, though his own strength was waning.

"We're close, Link. Just hang in there a little while longer," he reassured him.

"...Okay…" Link puffed.

They had just resumed their drunken, two-person gait when they heard Impa's front doors blast open. A figure sprinted out from the glow of the house, bearing a lantern. They stormed down the staircase and made a break for them, splashing across the muddy courtyard. The pair quickly recognized Cado when he skidded to a stop before them, a lantern in one hand, a new sword in the other.

His eyes bulged out of his head when he beheld the two of them. Taking a fighting stance, he brandished his sword, shouting, "Get your filthy hands off him, beast, or I'll — "

He never got the chance to finish his threat, as Dorian cut him off. "Oh, shut up and help me with him, Cado!" he barked.

Cado took his chin back, blinking rapidly. "W-what?!" he stammered.

"You heard me!" Dorian said, beckoning him over. "The thief blew out his knee — I need help. Now get over here, will you?"

Cado, flabbergasted, nevertheless did as he was commanded. He sheathed his sword and hustled over, gingerly draping Link's arm across his shoulders, wary of touching his skin. The two men hoisted him up, easing the weight off of his knee. A breezy grunt of relief escaped Link as they proceeded to half-carry, half-drag him across the courtyard and up Impa's stairs. Each step was nothing short of torture, but somehow Link bit back against the overwhelming urge to flop over and scream.

He honestly had no idea how long he had been gone. In his absence, Paya had relit the candles and barred the windows. She and Impa were seated by the altar at the back of the house, calming themselves over tea and huddled beneath blankets, when Cado, Link, and Dorian hobbled inside, startling them.

Paya shot to her feet, knocking over her tea cup. "Link!" she gasped, eyes widening as she took in the sight of him. Her cheeks flushed when her gaze met his deformed knee. "Oh my — ! A-are you all right?!"

"I'm fine," Link lied between his teeth.

"No, you're not," Dorian grunted.

Paya and Impa darted forward, meeting them in the heart of the room. "Put him down," Impa ordered gently. "He needs to get off that leg."

As they carefully lowered him to the floor, Paya reached out and placed her hand on his chest, helping ease him down. He shivered at her touch, grimacing as his knee gave a sickening pop, rolling beneath him. Grinding his jaw, he knelt heavily on his good knee, hanging his head while Paya held him steady by the shoulders.

They gave him a moment or two to recuperate. "Thanks," he wheezed. Finally, he raised his eyes and met Impa's concerned gaze.

"What happened out there?" she asked, searching though his face.

He couldn't bear the thought of telling her the whole, gruesome truth. He could barely stomach it himself. No, he could only give a weary nod, muttering, "I did it. It's done."

She leaned forward, her brows raised. "Done? The thief… he's gone?"

Link nodded again. "Yes," he confirmed. Pausing, he pushed down a bubbling wave of horror at the memory of it. _"I killed him, Lady Impa,"_ he said, slowly, his voice quaking. "He will never hurt anyone else in this village — I made sure of that."

The room seemed to grow colder at Link's words, the memory of Izer's presence haunting each of their minds. Before anyone could say anything further, Dorian spoke up.

"He has this to prove it, Lady Impa."

He reached into his shirt and tossed Izer's battered mask before her. It clattered against the floor, the sound raking at the rigid air. Everyone backed away from it as if it were cursed.

Cado choked. He hadn't seen a mask like that in a long time. "Gods above, you actually went and did it — !" he marveled to himself.

Impa's gaze lingered on the mask for a moment, her lips firm. She knew that symbol too well. Her eyes traveled from the mask, to the shackles on Link's wrists, and then to his belt, where she caught sight of the Sheikah Slate. She squinted slightly, her thoughts swimming.

She returned her attention to the mask, picking it up carefully and turning it over in her hands. Hairline cracks ran along its face, its crimson eye smeared. The leather belt that secured it to its wearer was blackened and melted as if it had been in a fire. Her forehead wrinkled as she attempted to piece together what had happened.

As he watched her inspect it, Link began to sweat, positive she'd begin to probe him with questions he wasn't prepared to answer. When she finally spoke, her words surprised him.

"Masks like these are only worn by members of the Yiga Clan," she explained. They all listened intently. "This one belonged to a Blademaster — one of the most elite in their ranks. They are ruthless and cunning. Long ago, many of our best Sheikah warriors fell to the might of a Blademaster." Impa looked upon Link, a glimmer of insight in her eye. "Surely, it must have been no easy feat to slay a man such as this."

Link's stomach rolled. In truth, it had been easy. _Too easy._ And that frightened him. He shoved away visions of Izer seeping back into his mind like poison.

Impa didn't seem to notice Link's sudden swell of anxiety. Her face softened as she looked upon him. "Link," she began, making his gut flutter. She showed the mask to him. "You did all this… for us?"

She then set the mask aside, holding him firmly in her gaze. "We worked you to death yesterday, and yet, you rose and defeated a Blademaster — for us. You risked your life for a village full of people who cowered before you, abused you, treated you like a monster." A tender smile spread across her lips, warming Link's horror slightly. Her eyes twinkled. "After all this time… You haven't changed one bit. Once a hero, always a hero — no matter what you look like."

Link didn't have time to process what she was saying. To his utter shock, Impa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. His heart almost stopped, his blood grinding to a total halt in his veins.

His world was ripped from underneath him all at once. Impa recognized him. She _remembered_ him. Not as the beast that had upturned her quiet village, but as the hero she had once known. His breath caught in his lungs. He could hardly believe what was happening.

A shiver rolled through him when she spoke into his ear.

"How can we ever repay you?"

He was too numb to respond. Instead, he found his leaden arms raising on their own, encircling Impa's little body and gently pulling her closer. She did the same, tightening her hold around him. She took the time to re-familiarize herself with his muscles, his hairline, the nape of his neck. She hadn't held him that much a century before, but she still remembered the ebb and flow of his shoulders, the way he tightened his ponytail. It was all coming back to her.

It was him. Link. Awake at last.

Time stopped for Link as she held him. His mind was wiped blank. He stared emptily into the wall, his breath shallow, his body shuddering without his control. He slowly came to the heartbreaking realization that he hadn't been held in over one hundred years. His body was starved for human contact — he squeezed her, not even feeling the silent tears leaking out of his eye sockets.

"You did very well, Link," Impa murmured. "I couldn't be more proud of you. You saved us all."

He melted a little at that.

Link jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his gaze, finding Paya knelt beside him, smiling sweetly. It pained him to see the bruise smeared across her cheek, but she didn't pay it any mind. The Yiga was gone all thanks to him. That was enough.

Paya mouthed, _Thank you._

A humble silence blanketed them all. Something even stirred Cado's emotions as he stood there, watching the beast he had tormented crumble into nothing in the arms of his elder. Suppose he truly _was_ the hero she had told everyone about? A pang of guilt stabbed at Cado's heart for making the Hero of Hyrule scrape out his cucco coop.

Impa patted Link's back, pulling away after what felt like a blissful eternity. She gazed upon him with a warmth of familiarity, cupping his cheek as if he were her grandson. "Thank you, Link, on behalf of everyone in the village. I doubt we'll be able to pay you back fully for this, but perhaps we could start by patching you up, hm? It's the least we can do."

"Yes, please," Link whispered, out of breath for some reason.

She turned to her granddaughter. "Paya, be a dear and fetch some supplies and fresh clothes. We need to get him out of these rags."

"Of course, grandmother," Paya replied. Standing, she turned and took off up the stairs. Link stared after her, barely registering what followed.

"And as for you, Dorian," Impa said, startling the old Sheikah. He stiffened where he stood. "Thank you for bringing Link back to us. We have much to discuss, you and I. But that can wait until morning. We have other engagements."

Dorian suddenly looked as though he had seen a ghost. He swallowed, nodding. "Yes, Lady Impa. Whatever you need."

"Thank you," she replied. Gesturing to Link, she continued, "Now, would you and Cado take a look at his leg, please? Be gentle with him, now. We only just got him back."

The pair obeyed, carefully taking Link and hauling him over to the wall, propping him up. Impa followed, supervising. Link tensed against the fire that shot through his bones as Dorian extended his leg before him. He could barely look at his own leg — it jutted off in an unnatural direction at the swollen, displaced junction that used to be his kneecap. He had a feeling this wouldn't go well.

Cado and Dorian knelt on his either side. Cado held back, feeling out-of-place, while Dorian leaned his nose in close to examine Link's leg.

After a moment or two, he shrugged. "Well, it isn't as bad as it looks — it's a clean dislocation. Should go back in easy. Thankfully, we can see what we're working with."

"Lucky me," Link groaned.

Paya came downstairs just as Dorian and Cado gingerly placed their hands on his semi-transparent skin. She carried several small medicine pots, a roll of cloth, and two bamboo boards atop a stack of folded clothes. When she laid eyes on what Dorian and Cado were about to do, she froze in her place, her face draining.

Cado and Dorian hesitated. Meanwhile, Impa gave her a sympathetic smile. "Paya, dear, you may want to go back upstairs for this part."

The girl gulped, rummaging up her courage. "N-no. No, I want to help." Striding forward, she set down her cargo and knelt beside Link. His heart rocketed into his throat when she proceeded to take his hand and hold it tight.

His face burned as he gaped at her, speechless. She held his gaze for a split second before she blushed a vibrant pink, burying her eyes into the rug. Link wasn't the only one floored by her bravery — everyone's gazes were zeroed in on their interlocked hands, brows raised and open-mouthed. No matter their stares, Paya refused to let go.

Dorian shook it off. He released a sigh through his nose and looked to Link, cautioning, "This is going to hurt."

Link's face twitched against a nervous smile threatening his mouth. "Don't worry — I've got help," he said, squeezing Paya's hand. She gave a quiet gasp, returning the gesture with a small squeeze of her own.

Dorian pursed his lips, turning his attention to Cado. He nodded to him. "On three, Cado. One…"

Trailing off, the two men put their hands into position. Cado set both palms against one side of Link's knee, while Dorian laid his forearm along the other. Link's body preemptively braced itself for what was coming, his jaw gluing shut and his spine locking.

"Two…"

Everyone sucked in a breath at the same time.

" _Three!"_

Dorian leaned his weight into his shoulder and thrust his forearm into Link's kneecap — Cado's hands remained solid, kicking back. With a nauseating _crunch,_ Link's knee snapped across his ligaments and back into its socket. A sharp bolt of pain lanced up his knee and into hips, his body jolted as if he had been struck by lightning. A scratchy howl ripped out of his throat. On reflex, he clenched down on Paya's hand till her knuckles cracked, coaxing a whimper out of her.

Impa's hand flew to his shoulder. "Shh, shh — it's all right, Link," she cooed, stroking him. "It's over."

Link panted and grunted, pinching his eyes shut. Dorian might as well have driven a spike through his knee. Within a few moments, his knee was prickling with pins and needles, throbbing with its own heartbeat. Link risked a blurry glance down — swollen as it was, it was back where it belonged. Thank the gods. He just prayed he'd be able to walk without a limp.

"It's done," Dorian gasped, patting Link's shin. "It's back in place. You'll be all right."

"Thanks," Link hissed, endeavoring to settle his rampant breath.

Paya continued to hold his hand as Dorian and Impa quickly took up the supplies she had brought. Link rolled his head towards her and smiled, grateful that she had sacrificed her hand for him.

"Did I hurt you?" he wheezed.

She managed to bring her eyes about into his. Shaking her head, she returned his smile. "No. I'm fine."

He squeezed her hand, again. Lightly this time. "Good… I'm glad."

She squeezed him back, blushing.

As Link's body wound down from the shock, Impa gently daubed a numbing oil onto his knee while Dorian prepared a splint. He placed the bamboo boards on either side of his knee and bundled them tight with a bolt of cloth, ensuring everything remained straight. After making him drink a sour pain reliever, Paya released Link's hand and assisted Impa in helping him out of his sopping, ragged clothes. Cado remained on the sidelines, gathering up scraps.

Link's shirt had been reduced to a tattered jacket that easily came off. Casting it aside, he slipped into a sleeveless, navy blue top and coat. They couldn't remove his pants without disturbing his splint, so Dorian took a small knife and cut him out of them; wet and ancient, they just about fell off of his body. Paya managed to flush even redder when she beheld Link stripped down to only his shorts — she had to turn her head away. Impa and Dorian, amidst a series of chuckles, helped Link don a pair of loose pants, instead.

In the end, he looked rather fitting in Sheikah garb. His clammy skin tingled with warmth against the fresh clothes; somehow, it brought a smile to his face.

As they helped him into his clothes, a wave of exhaustion bore down on him like a heavy blanket. It only then occurred to him how late it was and just how much he had done that day. Between doing chores and doing battle, his energy was thoroughly spent. His head lolled, his vision blurring as he fought to stay awake.

Impa smiled at him as they wrapped up. "...I think it's about time for bed. For all of us. We've had a long night." She met everyone's gazes, gesturing around the room. "How about we all sleep here tonight? We'll bring down the extra futons from upstairs, and in the morning, breakfast is on me. Yes?"

Nobody objected — it seemed Link's exhaustion had spread. Several pairs of glazed, shadowy eyes softened, nods bouncing around the room.

"I'd like that," Paya murmured.

"Very good," Impa said. "Paya, I'm sorry to make you run upstairs again, but could you grab the extra futons? We'll need five."

The girl nodded, excusing herself.

Impa turned her head toward Dorian, continuing, "I think you ought to bring your daughters, as well, Dorian. Have Cado go with you. After today, I bet they'll be wanting to spend the night with their father."

Dorian swallowed a lump in his throat and agreed with a quiet nod. Before he left, he met eyes with Link, his gaze flickering to the shackles still on his wrists. Pursing his lips, he approached Impa, removed something from his pocket, and handed it to her. Without a word, he took up a lantern and made his way out, Cado on his heels.

That left Link alone with Impa. They sat in silence for a time, listening to the reverent thumping of Paya walking around upstairs. Link leaned his head against the wall, his eyes stinging, begging to close. But he forced himself awake for just a bit longer. He needed to talk to Impa — alone.

"Impa?" he asked.

"Yes?"

He wet his lips. "I just… wanted to say thank you. F-for everything," he croaked, his throat tightening for some reason. She smiled sweetly under his gaze. "For welcoming me into your home, for feeding me… for your kindness. Thank you for making me feel… human. Not like — "

" — a beast," she finished.

His hands balled up in his lap. "Yes. A beast."

"You are very welcome," she replied, tracing along his bone mask with her eyes. "You've no doubt been through more than anyone deserves — _especially_ you. You've earned yourself a good, long rest."

He snorted. "Like I need it. I've been resting for a hundred years."

"Yes, well, even so, you still need your rest." She cocked her head, gazing on him fondly. "A man needs his rest."

Link smiled faintly, falling quiet. He honestly could have thanked her until the sun rose, but his mind seemed to find his brief thanks enough, his brain beginning to shut down, again. They both fell quiet, sitting to the sound of the rain against the windows.

After a few moments, Impa broke the silence herself. She had been eyeing the bands on Link's wrists.

"Link…" she said, reaching out and lifting the broken chains of his shackles. "Those are Sheikah-made shackles," she pointed out. "The Yiga prefer rope. Do you have an explanation for this?"

Link blinked, his exhaustion fading. His heart began to sprint in his chest as he thought back. "I, er…" he mumbled, struggling for words.

He hadn't realized what the shackles signified. What could he say? That Dorian had betrayed, ambushed, and bound him? That Dorian had been feeding the Yiga Clan information? No — Link couldn't. Dorian had entrusted him with his pain and his mistakes — he couldn't betray the trust that he had literally fought for. But what else could he tell her? Any lie he attempted to put together was preposterous at best and flimsy at worst.

How could he lie to Impa? Again, he just _couldn't._ Not to her. Not after everything she had done for him.

Link, somehow sick with loyalty, couldn't come up with a reason that wouldn't betray Dorian. But he couldn't outright lie to Impa, either. He merely stammered, "Impa, I-I… I can't — "

She cut him off. "Say no more," she murmured, placing her hand on his. He stared at her, his chest hollow. "I've been around long enough to know when I'm not being told the whole truth."

A dagger of regret shredded Link's heart, his brows furrowing. At that moment, the truth threatened to burst out of his mouth, but something barred it. His unspoken promise, perhaps? He choked on his words, his face as strained as his spirit.

To his surprise, Impa shrugged it off. "Perhaps it's better if I don't know. Knowledge is a heavy burden to bear, and whatever happened out there… perhaps it is too great for me. I can see it in your face, Link. What happened tonight — it will haunt you the rest of your days."

His spine shuddered. He gulped down a mouthful of anxiety into his roiling stomach.

"Just promise me this," she continued, squeezing his hand. Her eyes glittered with hope. "That whatever happened between you and that Yiga, you will not let it consume you. Use it as fuel for your journey. Make it work _for_ you, not against you. You were good at that — taking your trials and using them to drive your progress. It's what got you through the worst of times, and it's what got you here." She grasped his hand with hers, inspiriting, "I know that time has taken your memories, but please, do not lose sight of the hero you are because of the beast you have been forced to become. _You are not that beast, Link. You. Are. Not."_

Link's ribs rattled with every shaky breath he took. As he stared at her, wide-eyed and speechless, he hadn't realized he had shed a few silent tears.

Izer blasted back into his brain like a nightmare. His breaking bones, his bloody screams, his Malice-drawn doom. And who had wrought it upon him?

A beast. Link.

He shook his head. "But… I-I am — w-what I did to him… I-I am… a beast…" he stammered. "You… you didn't see it. Didn't _hear_ it. What I d-did."

She leaned closer to him, searching through the horror in his eyes. "I don't have to to know that it changed you. But let it be a change for the better. Know what you can do, and make it _yours._ Not Calamity Ganon's. _Yours."_

He never got the chance to ask her how. At that moment, Paya returned from upstairs. They both turned to watch her carefully make her way down — they could hardly see her face due to the tall stack of folded futons and pillows she struggled with. As she dumped them onto the floor, Impa cupped Link's cheek and placed something into his hand before she stood and shuffled off to help her granddaughter.

Blinking away his awe, his eyes flicked down to see what it was.

A small key. The key to his shackles.

He closed his eyes and sighed to himself. He hadn't revealed much to Impa — or perhaps he had? — but he had the distinct feeling she knew more than she was letting on. Grinding his jaw, he took the key and unlatched his shackles, tossing them onto a nearby table. He wished he could cast aside the memories of that night as easily as he cast aside the shackles. If only.

It didn't take long for Impa and Paya to set out the futons around the room. Once finished, Impa began to blow out candles. When Paya brought over Link's futon, she helped him slide under the sheets, making sure he was comfortable. She brought by a few extra pillows to tuck under his knee as extra cushioning.

He thanked her, his voice hoarse. Though a storm of confusion and dread swirled inside him, he was still exceedingly grateful for her help and hospitality. It was hard to believe that she had been terrified of him just the day before. Now, as he lay on a plush, comfortable futon, he marveled at how quickly things had changed for the better.

All the same, he couldn't shake an underlying feeling of dread for something he couldn't name.

By the time Cado and Dorian returned with Dorian's daughters, all but one of the candles had been blown out. Impa waited for them on her futon, holding the last of them.

Link, bone-tired as he was, lay on his back, staring into the ceiling. His mind was full to spilling, but he couldn't seem to pin down a single strand of thought without losing it to his mental maelstrom. He jumped and hurriedly closed his eyes when he heard Cado and Dorian enter the house. He listened, eyes shut, as Impa greeted them and helped get everyone out of their wet coats. She waited on her futon while Cado lead Koko by the hand while Dorian carried Cottla on his shoulder towards their futon. When the had settled, Cado made his way back to his. Paya had claimed her spot beside Link, with Impa on his other side.

After bidding everyone goodnight, Impa extinguished her candle, dousing them all in darkness.

Link huddled under his sheets, worried his glowing bones would wake someone. To find some semblance of peace from his chaotic thoughts, he cast out any shred of Izer that dared slither into his mind and instead focused on laying still and counting his breaths. His heartbeat kept a brisk pace, but as he counted higher, and his body began to ooze into his futon, it began to slow. By some miracle, he ended up drifting off to sleep for a few hours.

And despite the unwelcome arrival of Izer, the village slept peacefully.

But Cottla woke up in the middle of the night. The adults around her were fast asleep — her father snored softly. Sitting up, she clutched her blanket close and looked around her, remembering that she wasn't at her house. Then she noticed the subtle magenta glow of Link's collarbone shining through the darkness. A smile spread across her face. Kicking off her sheets, she crawled off of the futon and crept over to where Link lay.

She sat beside him, her eyes glittering with the glow of his bones. Reaching out, she lightly slapped at his shoulder, whispering, "Psst. Funny. _Funny!"_

Her little voice managed to wrench Link out of his sleep. With a gasp, he perched himself on his elbows and blinked at her. For a moment, he wasn't sure which of Dorian's daughters he was looking at, but it eventually came to him.

He restrained a yawn, pinching his eyes shut. "Cottla, sweetie, what are you doing up?" he whispered.

She beamed and stroked his arm as if he were a pet. "Mommy says thank you."

It took a second for his tired brain to digest what she had said. He stared at her, a pit forming in his stomach, his heart skipping a beat. "Mommy…?" he repeated, confused.

The little girl nodded briskly. "She says thank you." Then, without further explanation, she began to crawl into his bed.

Link panicked a little for some reason. He held his hand up, trying to coax her back into her own bed. "Oh, sweetie, you should get back to bed — with your family."

"Mm-hmm," she replied, undeterred. No matter his efforts, she settled down beside him, laying her blanket across them both. With a giggle, she wrapped her arms around his arm, snuggling him like a doll.

"Night, Funny," she yawned.

His breath stagnated in his lungs and he remained half-propped-up, stunned. He didn't know what to make of Cottla's words. Her mother? But… she was dead. _Horribly_ dead, from what Dorian had said. A chill darted across Link's skin from seemingly nowhere.

He couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not that late. He had no idea what time it was — he forced himself to forget about it and fall back asleep. He laid on his back, his brows furrowed as he stared into the shadowy ceiling for a moment before dragging his eyes shut.

As he attempted to fall asleep, he couldn't shake the uncanny feeling that someone was standing above him. But whenever he checked, he found only darkness. Perhaps he was still paranoid from Izer? Whatever-was-bothering-him seemed to be affecting his knee, as well — it had gone cold and stiff, as if someone were pressing a chunk of ice to it. It was strangely soothing.

"Night… Aiko," he breathed to the darkness.

In the end, his exhaustion consumed him, and he was out cold in a manner of seconds.

* * *

 **So, what did you think?! I wanted that chapter to be a bit bittersweet: sweet in that Link gets a bit of a happy ending, but still has to live with the reminder of what happened. Hoo boy, does he have more coming. Poor guy.**

 **I also thought it might be a good idea to flesh out Dorian's story, as well as his wife's. She was briefly mentioned in the game, but she's also mentioned in the art book. The Kakariko Ghost. A very interesting concept that I would have loved to see evolved a little! A few aspects of this story are parts of the game I thought could have been fleshed out. Our beloved Aiko (and Izer, too) are part of that. :)**

 **Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Not quite as action-packed as the previous one, but trust me, next chapter, we're headed back out into Hyrule, and Link's going to meet some fun faces. :) Can't wait to see you there!**

 **Thanks for reading! You're AMAZING!**


	12. One for the Road

**Hey, it didn't take me a month to write this! Ha ha ha! What a concept!**

 **Anyway, welcome back to another chapter of Corrupted Hero. Today, we've leaving Kakariko behind and setting off into the big, wide world. I hope you enjoyed Link's roller coaster of a stay with the Sheikah. I certainly loved writing it!**

 **Anyway, I'll get on with it. You. Yes, you. Thank you for your wonderful support. I have been over the moon with your comments and feedback. You have all been absolutely more than I could ever ask for, and I am so incredibly thankful for each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading!**

 **I hope you enjoy! This one's for you, and it's ready to take you away!**

* * *

To say that Link enjoyed the rest of his time in Kakariko would be an understatement. In the following weeks he spent there, he found himself settling into village life wearing an eternal smile. His tensions from his night with Izer retreated into the corners of his mind, and his pains — both mental and physical — vanished with the warm summer sunshine that blessed the village. By the time he was set to leave, he almost didn't want to go.

As the days went on, Link's leg healed remarkably fast. Dorian had estimated nearly a month's recovery time, but after a week, Link went from limping with support, to walking on his own at the end of a fortnight. Impa mentioned that he might have had a little help in his recovery; Link wasn't sure what to make of it, but he counted his blessings nonetheless.

Incredible as his recovery was, his leg wasn't completely restored — he felt the slightest hesitation in his joint when he extended his knee. Knowing this, Paya forced him to sit most nights, but he didn't complain. It was nice to slow down a bit.

But it wasn't all relaxation for him. Village life marched on, as did Link's restlessness. Before he could drive himself insane cooped up in Impa's house, he insisted on cleaning whenever she'd let him, helping with laundry, and cooking meals with Paya. He found that he had a knack for cooking, and with her help, began to keep a recipe book. She made sure to fill it with a few of her personal favorites.

Over time, the rest of the village gradually warmed up to him as well. His conquest of the Yiga had not gone unsaid — word traveled quickly, and Link became somewhat of a curiosity, watched by all and spoken to by a brave few. Some waved at him in passing. Others gave him faint smiles. Meanwhile, the painter, Pikango, extended his stay in the village due to his newfound fascination for Link. When Link wasn't watching, he would break out his sketchbook and draw him. Impa took notice and requested a few of his sketches for safekeeping.

Link's rapport with the Sheikah had certainly improved, but the highlight of his stay was no doubt his friendship with Cottla. The girl quite literally became his shadow, scampering alongside him wherever he went. Dorian didn't mind in the slightest; day after day, he beamed at them from his post, happy to see his daughter at play, and grateful that Link had found some peace.

When the two of them weren't playing pretend with her toys, they were splashing each other at Lantern Pond or shouting from the mountaintops, entertained by the echoes of their voices. By the light of Link's bones, they spent their nights collecting fireflies or playing hide and seek in the dark. Link always lost that one. The more he played with her, the more he grew to respond to both his own name and "Funny". It was a breath of fresh air to be considered fun rather than horrifying.

One of Cottla's favorite pastimes was sitting on his shoulders and putting flowers in his hair. They were doing just that one late afternoon when Link decided that it was time for him to move on.

After another day of play, they had settled under the shade of the sakura tree near the pumpkin patch. Listening to the churning of the nearby waterwheel, Link savored the earthy air in his lungs, holding a pile of flowers aloft in his hand for her. Cottla hummed a tune he didn't know while she plucked up the sakura blossoms from his palm and slid them into his crimson hair.

"How do I look, Cottla?" he asked with a grin. "Do I look pretty?"

"So pretty!" she cheered. "Prettier than Daddy!"

A snort blasted out of his nose. _"What?"_ he chuckled, envisioning Dorian with flowers in his sideburns. "You're silly."

" _Hee hee hee!"_ she snickered.

He remained still while she continued to accessorize him. Looking out over the village, his eyes found a plume of smoke rising beyond the rooftops. Someone was already cooking up dinner. He tried to test the air for what it could be, but his nose only found the sweet scent of the flowers in his hair.

His mind began to wander as he sat. To think that two weeks before he had broken Dorian's arm and gotten himself thrown into Impa's attic. He almost couldn't fathom how it had all lead up to that moment. His introduction to the Sheikah had certainly been rocky, but in spite of the bumps, he wouldn't have traded it for anything — not even his experience with the Yiga.

It had changed him. All of it. He just prayed it was for the better.

A lot had happened in a fortnight. As he continued to think back, he remembered why he had come to the village in the first place, why he had left the Great Plateau. It seemed so long ago. Almost as if jogging his brain, King Rhoam's words returned to him, reminding him of the task he had entrusted him with.

 _Finish what was started. The fate of Hyrule rests with you._

Link's knee twitched, his smile fading. What a burden to bear. The fate of Hyrule, of all the people living in it — including those in Kakariko. His stay in the village had been exactly what he needed after a turbulent introduction to the land. It had been a chance to make allies, to rest — physically, mentally, and perhaps spiritually. It had been wonderful, but it had also been _two long weeks_ since he had given his task some thought. Two long weeks of relaxation for him… and, no doubt, two long weeks of strife for Zelda in Hyrule Castle.

His jaw ground, a pang of guilt searing his stomach. Suddenly it all seemed so… careless of him. He had needed that relaxation, but he had stayed long enough. Hyrule was counting on him. _Zelda_ was counting on him. He couldn't defeat Calamity Ganon from the comforts of the village.

It was time. He decided he'd spend one more night with the Sheikah, gather up supplies, and leave for the wild in the morning. To exactly where, he wasn't sure, but he'd figure it out.

He was so wrapped up in making plans that he almost didn't hear Cottla when she spoke to him.

"Funny?"

He blinked, coming out of himself. He turned his head slightly. "Yes, sweetie?"

She slumped into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Can you sleep at my house?"

He froze, his heart oozing at her request. Now that he had made his mind up to leave, her words almost wounded him. He knew she would be the most difficult to bid goodbye to, but perhaps spending his last night with her would make things a bit easier?

A tender smile found his face. "I'd love to. We need to ask your dad first, though, okay?" He patted her knee, continuing, "Do you want to ask him now?"

She perked up and bounced excitedly on his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah! Let's find Daddy!"

"All right," he grinned, holding her steady and getting to his feet.

At that time of day, Dorian was normally at his post by Impa's staircase. Link kept a casual pace as he carried Cottla with him toward the heart of the village. When the pair eventually arrived, they found Dorian missing, Cado standing guard alone.

"Hello, Cado," Link greeted. "You haven't seen Dorian, have you?"

Cado stared, brows crunched, at the flowers in his hair for a moment. A faint smile flickered across his lips before he pointed his thumb toward the nearby general store. The store's porch connected to an outdoor deck equipped with a cooking pot and seating area. Link peered over, recognizing the figures of Dorian and his eldest daughter Koko bending over the pot.

"He's over there," Cado replied. "Finished his shift early."

Link nodded and smiled. "Thanks." As he strode away, Cottla waved Cado goodbye.

She announced their arrival before Link had even made his way over. "DADDY! KOKO! HI!"

Their heads snapped up. Dorian, a spoon in-hand, immediately grinned upon seeing the two of them, while Koko gave a small wave and returned her attention to the steaming pot. She proceeded to dump a bowl of diced pumpkin into it.

Dorian straightened as they came to face him. "Link! Cottla! Good to see you. Having fun, I see," he chuckled, gesturing to Link's accessories.

Link only managed to reply with a grin, as Cottla replied for him. "Daddy, can Funny sleep at my house?" she asked, grabbing his horns like reins and kicking her feet. "Can he? _Pleeeaaase?"_

Dorian exchanged a glance and a shrug with Link. "Well, I don't see why not. How about it, Link? Perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner, and, uh… a… sleepover?"

Link suppressed a laugh, nodding. "I'd be honored. Thank you."

Cottla, needless to say, was pleased to hear it. _"Yayyy!"_ she cheered, bounding against his shoulders.

"It's settled, then," Dorian said, aiming the spoon at him. "We'll set a place for you. Hope you haven't gotten sick of pumpkin soup, yet. I'll call you when dinner's ready?"

"Sounds good," Link replied. As Dorian turned toward the pot, Link's decision reared in his mind, goading him to speak up. He had to tell them sometime — preferably tonight.

"Er, Dorian?" Link added, a tad shyly, pulling his attention back. "I have something I need to discuss with you, and Impa and Paya — maybe Cado, as well." Dorian's head cocked to the side, his brows furrowed as Link went on, "It's something you all should know. Perhaps we could talk about it over dinner?"

Dorian searched through his face for a moment. He wasn't sure what Link was getting at. Slowly, he said, "Very well… I'll invite them, too. We'll see you all at my place, then?"

"Yeah. See you then," Link responded, his stomach fluttering for some reason.

Dorian and Koko busied themselves with dinner while Cottla steered Link off to play some more. He endeavored to keep out of his own head while they hunted for crickets, but he was anxious to tell the Sheikah his decision. Though he knew it wasn't the case, he felt as though he were betraying their hospitality by leaving. He knew they would understand, but all the same, he hated to leave. He had grown to call the valley walls home and the people around him his friends.

Friends. What a concept for someone with a face like his.

Thankfully for his irrational thoughts, dinner didn't take long to cook, and Impa, Paya, and Cado all agreed to Dorian's invitation. As the sun began to set beyond the mountains, so did the seven of them at Dorian's dinner table. It was a little cramped in the smaller house, but the warmth of everyone's company made things intimate. They chatted and laughed over hearty bowls of Koko's creamy pumpkin soup, the earthy Sheikah tea that Paya brewed, and a slew of freshly-baked egg tarts Cado brought along for dessert. By the time they were finished eating, Koko and Cottla's heads were beginning to droop.

Dorian excused himself to put them to bed, setting up a screen between them and the dining area. When he returned to the table, everyone had fallen strangely quiet.

Link fidgeted on his cushion, chewing his lip. He wasn't sure how to begin. In the meantime, Impa's gaze wandered, lingering on him for a moment. Her eyes tightened at his visible discomfort.

"So… either dinner was absolutely wonderful, or we have something on our minds," she mused. "Anyone care to share?" As she said so, her eyes lingered on Link.

Nobody said anything for a moment or two. Finally, Link mustered up the courage to speak, straightening and taking a breath. He wrestled with himself for a second, looking everyone in the eye before he turned his head and gazed at the partition obscuring Dorian's daughters.

Turning back, he finally said with a sigh, "I just wanted to thank you all for having me here. I can't thank you enough for everything, but I think it's time that I… I move on."

A solemn air settled upon the table, weighing them down. Beside him, Paya's shoulders sank and Dorian and Cado stiffened. Link's skin itched at his own news — he wasn't sure what else to say. Should he apologize? No, that didn't feel right.

All he could really do was give a shrug. "...It's time," he murmured.

Thankfully, Impa always knew what to say. She offered him a soft smile. "I figured as much," she responded quietly. "We can't keep you here forever. Fate won't allow it."

"But you will stay one more night, won't you?" Cado asked, his brows knit together. "You shouldn't be wandering Hyrule at night. It's dangerous out there."

"Of course," Link agreed. "One more night. Then I'm leaving first thing in the morning." He looked to Impa, continuing, "I'll need to get my bags back, if I could."

She nodded. "Certainly. I'll make sure they're well-stocked for the road ahead. We have plenty of provisions for you. It's the least we can do."

His heart warmed at her gesture. "Thank you, Impa, but you really don't have to. You've already done too much for me."

"Oh, but I wantto," she smiled. _"We_ want to. Besides, everything you brought with you went bad a long time ago. You'll need the finest Kakariko produce to get you on your way again. It's no trouble at all. I'll speak to Trissa about it."

"And you can take your recipe book, too!" Paya added brightly. She quickly realized she had spoken with too much gusto, her cheeks flushing in the candlelight. "I-I mean… if you think you need it..."

Link nodded, reassuring her. "I'll need it. I'll definitely want to take some of your recipes on the road." He gestured to his empty soup bowl and turned to Dorian, musing, "Koko has a gift. I'll miss her cooking."

Another bloom of guilt sprung in Link's chest at Dorian's shadowy eyes and withered frown. "I'm going to miss your girls, Dorian," he began, his voice coarse. He then turned to others, continuing, "I'm going to miss _all_ of you."

Dorian recaptured his attention when he murmured, "As will we. We haven't had a visitor like you in a long time." Link wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but he dismissed the thought.

"Yes, you will certainly be missed," Impa confirmed. "More than you probably realize. Perhaps, before you leave, we can give you a few things to remember us by?" she added, clasping her hands on the table. "Consider them gifts from all of us."

Link turned his head toward her, puzzled. What else could she have for him?

She went on, "I was planning on giving these to you before you left, so I figure now is as good a time as any. Unfortunately, I left them at my house." She winked at her granddaughter, requesting, "Paya, dear, you remember where we keep that old heirloom. Could you bring it?"

Paya's eyes glittered. She knew exactly what she was talking about. She rose from her place, nodding. "Of course, grandmother."

Impa stopped her before she could dart out of the house, adding, "Oh, and grab a scarf and some of Purah's old goggles, as well. He'll need those."

Paya replied with another nod, taking up a lantern and disappearing out the door.

"Impa…" Link breathed. "You've given me too much. I can't accept anything else. Really."

She leaned forward, a glint in her eye. "Oh, no — you'll want this. After all, it belonged to you — and _only_ you — one hundred years ago. You deserve to have it back."

Link blinked, his brows perking. Cado and Dorian followed suit. Link couldn't think of anything that would warrant safeguarding for a century. But then again, he couldn't remember much of anything from back then.

"Me?" he gaped. "What could you have kept that long?"

Impa chuckled. "You'll know it when you see it."

Paya must have sprinted to and from the house, for she returned quickly, out of breath. Tucking her cargo close, she stole back inside to rejoin them. Impa cleared away the dishes from the tabletop, allowing Paya to place a stack of objects before Link.

For a moment, all he could process was the pale scarf and the pair of thick, golden goggles with electric-blue lenses atop the pile. He was already grateful for them — they would do well to hide his face. But as he looked beyond them to the garment they rested upon, his eyes widened, his brain beginning to swirl with recollection.

Without warning, Link's head rushed. His eyes drank in the vibrant cerulean of the piece of clothing, almost as though they were starved for it. He suddenly found himself whisked off to a room with white walls, lined with mirrors. He knelt before two figures dressed in rich, regal blue and gold. Though he couldn't make out their faces, he instantly recognized their voices. A man and a young woman. They were praising him — the man with pride, the young woman with deference — offering him a gift to symbolize his place within the Royal Family.

Link seemed to drop back into his body with a thud that stole his breath. "My… old tunic…?" he gasped, reaching out with shaking fingers and picking it up.

The material didn't feel as though it had withstood a century — it was still soft and breathable, lined with decorative Hylian embellishments and paired with an undershirt and smooth, leather gauntlets.

"A tunic fit for a Champion," Impa said. "Perhaps your memories aren't all lost?"

He wet his lips, nodding rapidly. "I-I remembered… _something._ Maybe… maybe the day I got this?"

Impa smiled, her own mind taking her back. "It was a historic day. Princess Zelda made that tunic herself — it will fit no one but you." Knowing that, he gripped it tighter, listening with awe. "After the Great Calamity, she left it with me for safekeeping. Now that you're leaving us, I thought you ought to look the part."

He snorted, his head sinking. His hand traveled up to his bone mask, where his fingers traced along his incisors. "As much as I can, anyway…"

A silence settled upon them for a moment. "I think that ought to be your next step, Link," Impa mused, recapturing his gaze. "You must seek out answers to this… condition you have found yourself in. I'm afraid we can't be much help in this regard, but I may know someone who can help."

His head snapped up at that. "Wait — really?!"

She gave a small shrug. "Perhaps. Someone at the research lab in Hateno Village might be able to examine you. The technology we left behind is still alive and well there. Perhaps they can find a way to cleanse you of this and restore your former self?"

A newfound fire stoked Link's stomach from the ashes of his reality. He straightened in his place, stating, "I'll take that chance. I'll head straight there tomorrow. I… I have to do _something."_ His eyes traveled to the bones in his fingers, glowing in the candlelight. "If it got into me… then we have to be able to take it out, right?"

He swallowed, his stomach souring. He ran a hand through his hair. _"If_ we can take it out." The notion of that was nothing short of nauseating, but he refused to explore it.

Dorian's hand appeared on his wrist, stopping him from imagining the worst. He knew the beast that slept inside him; he gave Link as confident a nod as he could give. "You can. Nothing is impossible. You'll find a way."

Impa went on, pulling him out of the mire of his worries. "Then we have our heading. Hateno is a bit far from here, but your Sheikah Slate should be able to guide you. I bet they can take a look at it, as well." Her gaze softened, somewhat soothing Link's anxieties. "It isn't the same device Zelda left for you. It's… changed. But even in its current state, I still believe it is the link between today and the past. I may not know what secrets it holds, but you must not fear them, whatever they turn out to be. It needs you as much as you need it."

Link suddenly felt the Slate's presence where it lay, tucked under his coat. It seemed to warm his hip at the mention of it. Ignoring it, he gave a silent nod toward Impa. The Slate was yet another mystery he carried with him. He just hoped that whoever lived at the research lab could figure out what he had done to it back on the Plateau to make it so… _obsessed_ with him.

Now that he had his next destination in mind, he felt a tad more prepared to face whatever came at him. He appreciated Impa's guidance, as well as the support of the Sheikah. He didn't know where he'd be without them. Again, leaving them would prove difficult. But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

By the time Impa had passed along her gifts and advice, dinner was long over and the night well into its throes. Conversation had exhausted itself; everyone seemed to realize things were about to change rather quickly, what with Link leaving. In anxious silence, they all pitched in and tidied up Dorian's table, bidding each other goodnight and heading back to their homes.

Link set out one of Dorian's extra futons while he put away the partition near the bed. Koko and Cottla were sound asleep; Dorian carefully climbed into bed with them, waiting for Link to settle in before he blew out a candle.

"Get some rest, now, Link. You have a big day tomorrow," he murmured.

"Yeah," Link breathed, his stomach writhing. He hugged his tunic to his chest where he lay. "Will do."

He didn't sleep soundly that night, but he chalked that up to nerves. His mind raced with nonsensical smears of the past as he slipped in and out of sleep. Sometime in the night, Cottla woke up and remembered he was sleeping over. He couldn't help but smile when he felt her sneak into his futon and cuddle up to him. Her little presence somehow helped him drift off to a more restful sleep. Still, he found himself wide awake long before one of Cado's cuccos cawed in the new dawn. He did his best not to wake Cottla as he crept out of his sheets and began to get ready for the day.

Shedding his Sheikah clothes was more trying than he anticipated. He had grown comfortable in them — they had become sort of a symbol of his grafting into the village. Sentiments aside, he removed them and donned his cerulean tunic, as well as a pair of trousers and boots. The whole ensemble fit him like a glove, hugging him in the proper places, yet still allowing him breathing room. He had a feeling they would serve him well.

Now that the tunic and its Champion had reunited, his brain swam against a ghostly sense of nostalgia for a time he couldn't remember. It was… rather exciting, if he was being honest. Like he was coming back together, again. Attaching the Sheikah Slate to his belt, he gave himself a motivational breath before he tiptoed his way toward the door.

But something stopped him. "...Leaving early, huh?" came a scruffy voice from behind him.

He whirled around, finding Dorian sitting up in bed. He inspected Link from head to toe, his eyes weighed down with exhaustion and his mouth set in a weary frown. It appeared he hadn't slept well, either.

Link paused, nodding weakly. "I don't know how long it'll take to get to Hateno," he murmured.

Dorian sighed. "Well, get a move on, then. I'll meet you out there. These two will want to say goodbye." As Link swung open his door, Dorian added, "Hey. That tunic suits you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

A smile found Link's lips at that. "Thanks, Dorian."

The sun was still asleep behind the horizon, but the pale, crisp dawn was already awake. As Link left Dorian's house and got his last looks at the sleepy village, he made his way into the heart of Kakariko, where a few figures were already waiting for him. Impa and Paya. Considering the hour, he was amazed they had beaten him to the punch — Impa especially.

Link's belongings lay on the grass; his packs, his shields and weapons, the paraglider, his old quiver. Even his new set of goggles and his scarf. Paya was busy stuffing bundles of supplies into his bags when Impa caught sight of him. She raised her arm and waved him over.

When he came within earshot, she melted at the sight of him, crooning, "My, that brings back memories! I remember when I first saw you in that garb. The kingdom threw quite a celebration to commemorate your knighthood, but oh, you were so modest."

He scratched an itch on the back of his head and blushed a little. "How do I look? As good as back then?"

She beamed at him. "Even better."

As they spoke, Paya shoved the last of Link's provisions into his bags. Securing their straps, she rose and joined the two of them, her hands behind her back as she informed him, "Um… you're all packed and ready to go, Link."

Link peered over her shoulder at his bags. They bulged from the abundance of supplies Impa had gathered for him from around the village. He didn't know exactly what she had packed for him, but he was grateful all the same.

"You sure I can carry all that?" he chuckled. "You've spoiled me rotten."

Paya laughed lightly. "Well, if anyone deserves it… it's you."

They exchanged a sweet, brief stare before Paya brushed her hair behind her ear and tugged her gaze away.

Impa spoke up, interrupting them. "So, are you ready?"

Link nodded against the butterflies flitting around in his stomach. "As I'll ever be, I guess. I really hate to leave, but…"

She waved away his worries. "It's quite all right, Link. We understand. You can't let us stop you from fulfilling your duties." Pausing, she looked past Link up the hill, waving to someone he couldn't see. "Looks like your goodbye party is arriving."

He turned his head. Walking toward them were Dorian, with Cottla slung over his shoulder, Koko at his side, and, to Link's surprise, Cado. Link hadn't been expecting Cado, but sure enough, he strode alongside Dorian and joined the crowd, concealing something behind his back.

Link paused, gazing upon the group of Sheikah before him. They'd all played a role in his time in the village in one way or the other. It seemed that everyone was there that needed to be. Like it or not, it was time for goodbyes. He sighed, not sure where to even begin.

Thankfully, Impa ushered in his farewell for him. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's been an absolute pleasure having you," she announced tenderly. "We wish you only the best. Now, come here." She didn't hesitate to motion him to her level and gathered him into her arms, holding him for a long moment.

"Never forget who you are," she said into his ear. "You're still our Champion. Always will be. Should the journey make you weary, know that you are always welcome here."

He sighed into her coat, his heart bleeding in his chest. "Thank you… I'll have to take you up on that, sometime."

She chuckled, patting his back. "We'll look forward to it."

It took quite a bit of willpower to release her, but he managed it. Next in line was Paya, who looked about ready to burst. Her eyes were wide and shimmery and her cheeks were flushed. She seemed to be choking something down.

Swallowing whatever-it-was, she bade him a shaky, "G-good luck out there, Link. Thanks for… for everything."

"You're very welcome," he replied reverently. "Thanks for believing in me."

They both paused for an awkward moment, gazes locked. She didn't even give him the chance to brace himself when she suddenly threw herself at him and collected him into a suffocating hug. Shocked for only a second, he returned the favor, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her. Either that was his own heartbeat bashing against his ribs, or Paya's — he couldn't tell. They held each other for a solid ten seconds before Paya realized what she was doing and gave a squeak. She abruptly let go, scooting towards her grandmother, her face a vivid scarlet.

A giggle bubbled in Link's throat, but he suppressed it. He had to wring out his broad smile before he faced the next person waiting to say goodbye.

Cado. Link wasn't sure what to make of this. In all his time in Kakariko, he hadn't gotten particularly close to the man. They spoke every now and then, but nothing too familiar. All he could do was face him with a friendly expression, unsure what to expect.

Cado seemed to be choosing his words with the utmost care; he hesitated to speak for a time, merely searching through Link's face. Finally, he spat it out. "I'm afraid I wasn't very kind to you…" he muttered, pursing his lips. "But you have my respect. And my coop has never looked better, so, erm…"

Drifting off, Cado removed what he had been hiding behind his back. Link's eyes ran along the curved silhouette of the sleek, black hunter's bow Cado presented him with.

"Take this," Cado said, holding it out to him. "For your travels. May your arrows always fly true."

Link, stupefied by his gift, took it with humility. It was nothing short of a hand-carved work of lethal art, and it was the one piece of equipment he was missing. It would certainly be put to good use.

"Cado, I… thank you," he marveled. "Thank you very much!"

Cado nodded, growing somewhat uncomfortable. "Don't mention it." He didn't look particularly interested in a hug, so Link let that one slide.

Dorian stepped forward, then, anticipating his place in line. He cradled Cottla against his shoulder with his good arm, Koko clinging to his leg. He gazed upon Link with an odd blend of pride, sadness, and awe mixed upon his face.

Link didn't hesitate to give Dorian a hug of his own, minding his sling. "Thanks for everything, Dorian," he murmured into his shoulder. "I'm... sorry for everything, too," he added, quieter.

"Likewise," Dorian replied lowly. "You take care of yourself. And don't be stupid, all right? You're better than that. Better than me."

They chuckled in unison, Link responding, "I won't be. Thanks."

Pulling back, his heart immediately clenched when he was reminded of the final members of his lineup. He smiled at Koko, yet stiffened under Cottla's heavy, sleepy gaze as Dorian lowered her to the ground.

Link knelt, already fighting back a well of tears at the sight of the two girls. He looked to Koko, murmuring, "Thank you for feeding me, Koko. Your pumpkin soup was the best I've ever had. You take care of your family, okay?"

She nodded quietly.

Then, with dread, he faced Cottla.

It was quite early for her, but she could still tell that something was wrong. The sparkle in her big, rich brown eyes had faded, leaving them puffy and misty, studying his face with confusion.

"Cottla…" he began, his voice breaking. He couldn't seem to muster up the words. He could only choke out her name before his voice cowered back in his throat.

She cocked her head, worrying, "You're sleepy, Funny. You should go sleep."

A strangled snort of weak laughter escaped him. She was adorable in every way. Oh, how could he leave her?

"I-I can't," he stammered, shaking his head. "Funny has to go, sweetie."

Her bottom lip shot out — it destroyed him. Thankfully for his own misery, she didn't cry. If she did, he would have utterly fallen apart.

"Why?" she wondered.

A rattled sigh eased out of his lungs. "Because lots of nice people need my help."

The little girl didn't cry. She didn't even say anything. Instead, she sniffled and padded forward, hopping into his awaiting arms. He automatically drew her in, pressing her against his chest and cupping her head in his palm.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I can play with Mommy until you come back. Come play soon, okay?"

Her response throttled his throat until he could scarcely breathe. He eventually managed to wheeze out an, "Okay," as he let a flood of tears run out of his eye sockets.

No amount of time holding her would have been enough to tide him through leaving her behind. But he had to let go of her eventually. Willing his entire body to release her, he knelt for a moment, composing himself while Dorian scooped her back up. Link wiped his eyes and endeavored to shake it off while he shouldered his packs.

Before he officially bade everyone goodbye, he made sure to don the final pieces of his ensemble. He wrapped his new scarf around his face and secured it above his bony nose with his goggles. To complete the look, he fastened his black hood and pulled it over his head.

Feeling slightly silly wearing a full set of headgear, he faced the Sheikah with a shrug. "Well… this is it," he managed to muster.

Several sets of misty eyes held him for a moment. Impa's eyes in particular swam with hope and memories as she looked upon her corrupted hero, a broad smile taking her face. Nodding, she said, "Farewell, Link. May the Goddess smile upon you."

With her blessing — and perhaps the Goddess', if he was lucky enough — Link waved, turned, and began to make his way out of Kakariko.

Several voices called to him as he walked, wishing him health and safe travels. Though bittersweet tears stung his eyes, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he left the village at his back. His breath ballooned in his chest, his posture strong and his spirits soaring. For the first time since he woke from his slumber, Link walked with a spring in his step.

The first leg of his journey was a familiar one. He backtracked along the road that wound out into the wild, emerging from the seclusion of the mountains and onto the cliffside. Gusts of morning wind swept through his hood as he overlooked the valley at the foot of the Dueling Peaks. From that vantage point, he could make out the stable he had passed two weeks prior far down the road — the stable acted as gatekeeper to the vast expanse of plains beyond.

He paused as he eyed the stable, wondering if he ought to ask for directions, and perhaps find himself a horse. After all, Impa hadn't mentioned exactly how far Hateno was, nor how long it would take to travel there.

But his heart stuttered at the mere thought of interacting with others. Yes, he had a means of disguise, now, so he wouldn't send them running for the hills, but he still wasn't too keen on meeting strangers. It had already been bad enough when he first arrived in Kakariko. Instead of tempt fate, he decided he would walk. How far could Hateno be, anyway?

Though he knew the tools at his disposal, he hesitated only just in consulting the map on the Sheikah Slate; he was still struggling to comprehend its newfound… personality, dreading what might greet him should he interact with it.

He finally gave in to his crippling fear of social interaction. Biting his lip, he held the Slate up. He exchanged a glance with the crimson eye on its screen before he timidly requested of it, "Show me Hateno Village."

The Slate happily obeyed, much to his unease. It gave a chirp and displayed its map of Hyrule for him, highlighting both his location, as well as his destination. Link gaped a little. Impa hadn't been exaggerating — Hateno was situated near the edge of the continent, nestled by the sea and far from Kakariko. He judged that it would take at least the entire day, well into the night, and perhaps the following morning to walk the distance.

A horse would have made the journey easier — not to mention a lot quicker — but he stubbornly refused. No, he would walk to Hateno. Enjoy the scenery and all that. Though he didn't know it then, he would thank himself for his stubbornness later. Had he secured a horse, he would have bypassed a vital revelation on the road.

And so Link set off, on foot, toward Hateno. Ignoring the invitation of the stables, he veered left at a fork in the road and began to follow it due east, striding along the outskirts of the plains. The valley sighed around him with the healthy breeze that curled off of the Dueling Peaks, brushing along the waist-high grass in shining waves. His path was dappled with colossal shadows from the clouds meandering overhead.

As he smiled amidst the morning cascading into cadence around him, he came to terms with leaving Kakariko, his guilt sweeping away with the wind. He would miss the Sheikah — he already did — but he was where he needed to be. At ease with his circumstances, Link pressed on, the fresh, dewy smell of the grass energizing his blood.

Before long, the flat grassland began to warp as it proceeded along the road, coming to a head in rough hills intermingled with shallow puddles of water. A few trees stood about, as did the time-beaten remains of several brick structures as they struggled out of the grass. The sight of them saddened Link a bit; he briefly wondered what had once stood there. It was impossible to tell due to their deterioration. He had all the supplies he needed, so he didn't bother scrounging through them like he had at the abbey.

Link soon found himself in an entirely new area after only walking for a few minutes. He peeked down at his map, wondering if he was heading the right way. Sure enough, he was, and he seemed to be approaching a landmark ahead. His brow crinkled when he read the landmark's name displayed on the screen. Fort Hateno.

A fort? He hadn't been told about a fort. Curious, his eyes snapped up, scrounging the area for any kind of structure he hadn't been paying attention to. The more Link ran his eyes over the transforming terrain, the more he began to realize that he wasn't the only one occupying it.

The only living one, at least. His stomach shifted when he recognized the bizarre, broken-down bodies of a small army of Guardians strewn across the rugged plains. There had to have been several dozen, at least, all blackened by the ages and smothered with moss. Some lay above ground while others appeared to be in the process of being swallowed by it. He came to the grim realization that he had walked into a mechanical graveyard.

His pace slowed as he strode between their silent, looming frames. When King Rhoam had explained the Guardians to him, he told him they moved autonomously. It made sense to him, but he had never envisioned them with legs. After all, the Guardians he had found on the Great Plateau had lacked them entirely. But as he walked, Link came to see that the machines did indeed have legs — roughly six long, spindly appendages ending in taloned feet. Some clawed to the sky as if reaching for something.

As he reached the heart of the graveyard, he discovered what it was. The majority of the Guardians lay clustered along the face of a crumbling relic of a bygone era: a broad bulwark protecting the mouth of a canyon, crowned with sharpened logs and baring a rusted, wrought iron gate. Large as the Guardians were, they had failed to penetrate the fort. It stood almost invisibly above the overgrowth, camouflaged by the ornaments of nature.

Link paused, marveling at the might of Fort Hateno. Even at that distance, he shrank in its shadow. He wanted to get a better look at it — he eagerly pressed forward, only for his muscles to seize up when a familiar, haunting sound found his ears.

He hadn't forgotten it. He never would. The deep, echoing chime of a machine breathing back to life. Slowly, he brought his head about to the machines surrounding him on all sides. He remained remarkably calm and motionless when he found himself under the scrutiny of three individual Guardians.

Just like on the Great Plateau, they didn't fire upon him. No, they merely stared, enraptured by him. Though he hid his corrupted appearance, they nevertheless knew what ran in his veins. It was the same substance that surged along their circuits. It had called them out of their sleep. Link endeavored to calm his racing heart as he stood under their gazes, unsure of how to proceed.

He never got the chance to plan out his next move, for it was made for him. His heart dropped into his stomach when a voice severed the rigid, silent atmosphere, wrenching his attention, as well as the Guardians', over to its source.

"HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!" someone cried.

Link had been so engrossed in the Guardians that he hadn't seen the man stood at the top of the fort. He had watched his approach through a spyglass, and promptly burst with hysterics upon seeing the Guardians' reaction to Link.

All at once, the Guardians forgot about their corrupted companion and aimed their reticles at the man on the fort. Link, seizing the opportunity, ducked his head and sprinted forward, screaming, "GET DOWN!"

The man gave a yipe and ducked just as one of the Guardians unleashed a streak of bright, crackling energy at the space where his head had been. The beam sailed past its mark and into the side of the valley the fort guarded, shearing off a chunk of stone beyond the wall. Link lost his footing when the ground shook — he stumbled his way through the fort's gateway, landing on his face in the dirt.

With his back turned to the Guardians outside, he had barely a moment to register one of the others firing another beam. Before he could roll to the side, someone grabbed hold of his arm and wrenched him out of harm's way. The beam rocketed mere inches from Link — the heat from it warmed his skin through his clothes. From the safety of the fort, both Link and his savior watched the second Guardian beam sail through the gateway and punch a distant tree over with a spectacular crash.

They panted for a moment in the aftermath. Finally, their gazes met. The man that had saved Link looked rather scholarly — his collar was perched high, much like his greying eyebrows, and his eyes darted about, hungry for knowledge, behind the lenses of his glasses. Those glasses lay skewed against his face after the Guardian fiasco, but the man quickly adjusted them, regaining his composure.

"My, that was close," he puffed, a wild grin on his face. "I'm used to getting shot at, but in all my years of study, I have _never_ seen those Guardians react like that! Forgive my excitement, but that was incredible!"

Dusting off his pants, the man reached out his hand and offered it to Link to hoist him up. For a moment, Link froze, his fear from the Guardians transforming into fear of man. He wasn't sure, even with his disguise, how his interactions with this stranger would go. But after what they had just been through, he supposed he'd take a leap of faith — he took the man's hand and got to his feet, suppressing the urge to run off.

Link tucked his scarf further under his goggles. The man studied his strange coverings for a moment, proposing, "Tell me, what's your name, my goggle-eyed friend?"

"Er… Link," he replied, thrown off by the word _friend_ spoken by a stranger."And you are?"

The man blinked, taking his chin back. "Wait — you don't know who _I_ am?"

Truthfully, Link didn't know that many people, anymore. Not outside of Kakariko, at least. He slowly shook his head, his brows low over his wide eyes. "Well… no…?"

The man couldn't believe his ears. He scoffed, placing a hand on his chest. _"No?_ Don't tell me you've never even HEARD of me! Oh, come on — everyone around here knows me. Are you new, or something? You must be."

Link shrugged. "You could say that," he mused.

The man sighed, disappointment clouding his eye. "Well, that figures. I'd probably remember a getup like that, anyway." He aimed a finger at Link's goggles, continuing, "You'd better remember my name, because it's not the last time you'll hear of it. I am Dr. Calip, researcher extraordinaire!" he proclaimed. "I've spent my life studying ancient history and technology. In fact, I was on the precipice of a groundbreaking discovery when you showed up. Those machines out in that field, the Guardians, they hold secrets you couldn't begin to comprehend!"

"You were studying the Guardians?" Link asked, motioning beyond the wall. "That's impressive — they're really dangerous."

Calip nodded proudly. "Indeed, but I live for the thrill of knowledge. Fascinating things, those machines. I can't tell you how many travelers they've sent packing. No one's passed through this end of the fort in years."

Without provocation, Calip leaned back and pressed his hand to his chin, inspecting Link. Link found himself shifting beneath his gaze. He had to convince himself several times that the man couldn't see through his disguise.

"...But you, my friend, are the first person I've seen pass through," Calip beamed. "By the skin of your teeth, yes, but even so — what an achievement. How in the world did you get those Guardians to just… _watch you?_ It was like they knew you."

Link's blood chilled. He had a faint idea of why — there was no denying the Malice that ran through both of their inner workings. But he was certain if he told Calip, he would think he was insane; he could hardly understand it himself. Sparing himself the burden of explanation, Link shrugged it off.

"I have no idea, Doctor," he lied. "Maybe I just got lucky?"

"Well, now, I'd say luck is on our sides, today!" he beamed. "Now that you're here, I'm officially making you my assistant. I need you to do that again, Link — for science!" Without further ado, Calip took Link by the shoulder and steered him away from the fort and through a grove of trees. Link, stunned by his insistence, strode aimlessly alongside him. As they walked further along, Link spotted a log cabin tucked beside a slender waterfall ahead.

"Doctor," he began, not wishing to get sidetracked. "I'm sure your research will change the world, but I actually have someplace I need to be…"

Calip waved away his protests. "Don't worry, this shouldn't take long. I need to pick up your reward before we conduct my experiment. I always pay my assistants up front, you see."

When they arrived at the cabin, Calip made Link stay outside while he fetched something. For a moment, Link had expected Calip to grab some money for him — something he'd certainly need.

But no. When Calip returned, he shoved a _banana_ into Link's hand as payment for his time. Link, stunned, held it limply in his upturned palm.

"Here — brain food," Calip smiled, patting Link's shoulder. "You look like you could use it."

"Er… thanks…?" He wasn't sure whether or not Calip had just insulted him. Either way, food was food. It wouldn't go to waste.

"No, friend, thank YOU! Now, then, off to the research site!" Calip announced, guiding Link away from the cabin.

The pair proceeded to leave Fort Hateno behind as they trekked around a bend, following the ebb and flow of a nearby stream. As they walked, Calip filled the air with stories of his studies, about how his current research project would shatter the world of ancient science. He removed a thin notebook from his back pocket and read Link his notes, telling him of a verse in an old text he had translated.

"This verse has the potential to unlock something incredible — I can feel it," he said, gripping his stubby pencil with determination. "I haven't been able to fully utilize it, however, as I've had to deal with the unfriendly reception of those Guardians. But you, Link — ho, ho, you can change that!"

Link's brows furrowed. "What does the verse say?" he wondered.

Calip had taken the words to heart by that point in his studies. Automatically, he rattled it off, _"'When a dark light lies in the ancient one's eyes, pierce its leer to break the weir.'"_

For some reason, the verse sent goosebumps down Link's neck. He wasn't sure if he was prepared for whatever this experiment turned out to be.

Clueless to Link's reaction, Calip went on, "To the untrained mind, it's little more than rhyming nonsense, but not to me. I have the location down-packed, and I know _how_ to do it, but I lack the means to execute."

Calip then lead Link off of the beaten path of the trail and into an overgrown offshoot of the valley. The carpet of thick, waist-high grass bore a clear path through it that stretched deeper into the rocky glade. As they proceeded through, Calip's research site came into view. It was a rather surreal spot, boxed in from three sides by towering, impenetrable stone walls. A ring of trees encircled an open field dappled with mushrooms. At the center of the clearing sat a lone Guardian, dark and inactive.

Calip presented his site to Link, continuing, "This is where you come in, Link. All I need you to do is capture that Guardian's attention, and using any means you'd like, pierce its eye."

Link, his heart beginning to flit for some reason, swallowed a lump in his throat. "What will happen when I pierce its eye?" he wondered.

For a moment, Calip fell quiet. "I'm not positive, honestly, as the verse is a little vague on that, but whatever 'weir' will break, I'm sure it'll be _something._ Hey, that's all part of the fun of science, isn't it?"

Link couldn't pry his eyes from the lonely Guardian. "Yeah," he muttered, fixed in his spot.

When Link remained in place, Calip gave him a light shove. "Well? Go on, now. I paid you up front, didn't I?"

Unblinking, Link willed his leaden legs forward. He had grown curious, if not a bit anxious, at whatever the outcome of this venture would be, and that willed him through. Though he somewhat dreaded doing the deed, he began to consider his options of piercing the Guardian's eye. He didn't want to get too up close and personal with the machine, so he put a sword out of his mind. Then he remembered Cado's bow. Perfect. Carefully, he slid it off of his back, retrieved an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it in place.

He crept as carefully as he dared across the damp bed of grass beneath his feet. The Guardian remained quiet, seemingly growing taller the closer he advanced. As he passed through the gap between the ring of trees, his foot met a twig. Link stopped dead in his tracks, his heart nearly rending itself to shreds as the _snap_ of the twig raked at the air.

Link's knees wobbled as the Guardian blinked to life, awoken by the sound. It's head rotated several degrees before it zeroed its gaze in on him. Just like the others, it merely stared.

As he gazed into its eye, Calip peered around from the cover of a tree, eyes peeled and his pencil at the ready. The Guardian was too entranced by Link to notice the doctor as Link raised his quivering arms, pulled back his bow string, and let the arrow fly into its iris.

The magenta light coursing through the Guardian sputtered, its segments whirling wildly. Link seemed to have overloaded it. To his surprise, it didn't react quite as bombastically as the Guardian he had destroyed on the Great Plateau. Instead of detonating like a bomb, this Guardian merely went dark, again. Puzzled, Link only had the time to bring his head around to gape at Calip when the ground began to rumble beneath them.

His eyes flitted wildly about his feet, searching for what was happening. He braced himself against the great trembling of the earth as it crescendoed into a molar-rattling quake that sent him, in spite of his stance, onto the ground. He leaned back, eyes wide and jaw dropped, as something began to sprout from beneath the ground — something large enough to upend the Guardian as it rose from below it.

Whatever-it-was shed sheets of dust as it climbed out of the grass, rising above the glade like a mountain. It soon left Link in its enormous shadow. Even through the unrelenting shaking, Link got a decent look at the structure. It resembled a cave, almost, with a yawning doorway and a flat, steepled top. He instantly realized it was of Sheikah design, recognizing its curling embellishments aglow with a mysterious blue light. That same blue light emanated from within it, as well, beckoning them inside.

At last, the structure ascended to ground level, and the quaking ceased. Link's body tingled, either from the shaking or his shock, he wasn't sure. He merely sat in his spot, dumbstruck, until Calip came shooting out from his cover, one hand tangled in his hair in disbelief.

"I can't believe it! I don't even know what it is, but I can't believe it!" Calip beamed. "This is _huge!_ Come on, _we have to go inside!"_

Calip wasted no time in hauling Link to his feet. Link, both too numb and too invested to protest, went along with him as he shuffled forward and entered the strange structure.

As soon as they stepped inside, Calip coughed on the thick cloud of dust choking the air. The motes that scattered with his coughing glowed in the quiet light issuing from the back of the dim chamber they found themselves in. Link's head swam with déjà vu. The familiar patterns on the walls, the smooth stone floors… he had seen them all before in the Shrine of Resurrection.

Everything… except for what lay at the back of the room. Situated on an altar was an immense cell crafted from light, and it appeared to be housing something. A blurry figure sat inside it — Link couldn't make out what it was from a distance. He and Calip approached it in total silence, curiosity driving their feet.

"...What is this?" Link breathed, his eyes filled with the blue light.

"I don't know," Calip said. "Touch it."

Link had lost all sense of heed at that point, his awe consuming him. Reaching out, he gingerly tapped his fingertips on the cell. Incredibly, it was corporeal, its surface resembling glass. That being said, it wasn't like any glass Link had ever touched, before — it seemed to ripple like the surface of water when his fingers met it.

Something happened, then, something that Link was convinced he had imagined until Calip jumped. The cell flushed a frightening shade of magenta for a split-second before it flickered and died, exposing what it housed.

That was when the smell hit them: a thick, musty, aged smell that dried their sinuses. Their eyes fell upon the shriveled, mummified remains of a human being, seated cross-legged in the center of the altar. The mummy appeared to have once been male, as it lacked a shirt, but it wore a pair of threadbare pants that clung to its jutting hip bones. Lengthy curtains of wispy grey hair poured from the large conical hat that crowned his head, and he wore a veil over his face, emblazoned with a symbol Link knew too well.

The Sheikah eye.

The hairs on the backs of their necks sprung up when a reverent, disembodied voice drifted through the stale air. "To you who sets foot in this Shrine…" it breathed. "I am Maz Koshia. Welcome."

The two of them were too engrossed in searching for the mysterious voice's origin to notice the mummy's fingers twitch. His fist closed.

Link and Calip turned their heads toward each other, jaws open. Calip's eyes nearly bulged into his glasses as he whispered, "Which one of us is it talking to?"

Then something moved out of the corners of their eyes. They both jerked their heads around to find that the mummy had risen from the pedestal, and was standing. He was nothing less than an ancient monument; he towered above them.

None of them moved for a suffocating second.

Quietly, the monk spoke in the same voice that had welcomed them. He turned to Link. "Him."

Calip promptly went stiff as a board, the sight of the monk crushing the breath out of him. Without so much as a gasp, he keeled back and hit the floor with a thud, leaving Link alone with the mummy.

Despite Link's stupefied staring, he greeted him with a reverence he didn't deserve. Calmly, the mummy pressed his skeletal hands together and leaned forward in a polite bow before him.

"I've been waiting for you."

* * *

 **OooooOOOOooohhh! What has Link stumbled upon?!**

 **I just HAD to include Maz Koshia from the Champion's Ballad in this story. I opted to have just him instead of, like, 150 monks (believe me, I found every single one of them). The Shrines, while an awesome aspect of the game, are more of a game mechanic than a story element, so that's why I've left the majority of them out. As for what Link will discover in this Shrine, stay tuned and find out...**

 **And Cottla! My heart! I almost lost it writing her scenes. And for any of you worrying, no, Paya and Link won't end up together in this story. I love the girl to death, but my ultimate power couple is Link and Zelda. :)**

 **Anyway, how are you liking these longer chapters? Too long? Would you prefer I break them up a little more? Or are we comfy with this? Either way, expect a new chapter once a week. I'll push my tush in gear to keep giving you updates. You guys totally deserve it! You rock!**

 **Have any comments? Predictions? Ideas? I'm all ears! I can't wait to take you with me on this journey. I'll see you next chapter!**


	13. Blindsided

**Heyo! I'm back, you beautiful people! I apologize for the later-in-the-week update! I know I promised a chapter per week, but I was pet-sitting this week and as a result of that, got kinda busy and only got to work on this chapter in staggered chunks. I'll do my best to update next week, as well, but I am going to be out of town, so wish me luck! Thanks again for your patience. :)**

 **Anyway, here we are with chapter 13! Yahoo! We're diving right in with our new, mysterious friend in the Shrine. So exciting!**

 **As always, I just want to thank each and every one of you again for your continued support, your comments, and your suggestions! If you have any ideas you think would fit into the story, PM me and we'll start brainstorming! I have planned out this story from start to finish, and it's pretty darn big, but there's always room for more fun. :)**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It took Link a minute to scrape his jaw off the floor. Once he had shaken his initial shock, he realized how rude he was being — unresponsive, gawping at his host like a fish — after he had been welcomed and bowed to so hospitably. He swallowed his astonishment as best he could, composing himself. His gaze riveted to the ancient figure before him, he found himself returning the mummy's greeting with a slow bow of his own.

The mummy's bow deepened in response, his sheets of fine hair falling forward. Link, still staring, somehow managed to dig his voice out of his throat.

"You've been waiting for _me?_ How… how long have you been waiting, exactly?"

After taking a moment to straighten, the mummy gestured his arms around the Shrine; it responded to his motions with a stunning symphony of light, painting them in radiant, shimmering rays of ethereal blue. The lenses of Link's goggles glittered, as did his own eyes as he drank in the Shrine's dazzling display, his mouth open. Behind his veil, the mummy gave a small smile at Link's wonder.

"I have waited here at the behest of the Goddess for many seasons," the mummy explained. His deep, humble voice carried through Link's ears with the gait of a gentle breeze. It sent a shiver up his neck. "With her divine blessing, I have listened to the whispers of time and pondered the future over the last ten thousand years, awaiting the day when your feet would again walk Hyrule."

Link's eyelids fluttered at his words. _"Ten thousand years?"_ he echoed, eyes bugging behind his goggles."You've been waiting for me… _for_ _ten thousand years?"_

The mummy gave a slow, knowing nod. "Quite so. But that is of no consequence," he dismissed, seemingly reading Link's flabbergasted thoughts. He pointed an upturned palm at him. "What matters is _you._ You're finally here, and my patience has been rewarded."

"I'd say it has," Link breathed.

As he found himself agape again, he supposed that, given the shriveled state of the mummy's body, that his words made some sense. Still, ten thousand years was a long time. A _brain-bendingly_ long time. It only then dawned on him how astronomical it was that he was speaking to a ten-thousand-year-old man, and that he had been expecting him.

But what for?

He didn't get the chance to ask. With a ghostly chuckle, the mummy clasped his hands and proceeded to step, barefoot, off of the pedestal to meet him. Link couldn't help but marvel at the way he carried himself. He moved as if submerged in water — steadily, buoyantly — as though the very air were buffeting him. With his brittle bones and muscle, that was only a necessity.

Link took a few steps back to give him some room. Even off of the pedestal, the mummy absolutely eclipsed Link in size — he only barely reached his jutting clavicle. He had to tilt his chin up slightly to get a proper look at the towering, ancient man.

When he came to a stop before him, the mummy continued, placing a hand on his bony chest, "Please allow me to reintroduce myself; I believe I caught you off-guard. I am Maz Koshia. I am one of many, but the last of all — a devoted disciple of the goddess Hylia. If memory serves — and it always does — you are Link, are you not?"

Link found his voice again after taking a moment to appreciate his stature. "I am," he humbly replied.

"Ah, I knew it was so," Maz Koshia nodded, pressing his palms together prayerfully. "I have seen you and your heroism in many a vision — it is an honor to finally meet you in person. Hylia has given me much, but an audience with you is, no doubt, her greatest blessing."

With the utmost reverence, the monk proceeded to bow again before him. Link's cheeks burned and he shifted his feet, his brows knitting together. Heroism? He hardly believed he was worthy of such genuine praise for his _heroism._ He hadn't done much to warrant such respect; he just prayed the monk was referring to his acts a century prior, rather than his recent outings.

Even after somewhat coming to terms with what had happened, Link still wasn't proud of his conquest of Izer. True, he had saved Kakariko — but at what cost? His sanity, perhaps. He could only hope that his future endeavors would prove less horrific.

His moment of awe at meeting Maz Koshia melted away slightly at the reminder of that night. A touch of shame slumped his shoulders. "If you say so," he breathed.

The monk straightened slowly, looking upon Link with a curious tilt of his head. "Why do you say that?" he wondered.

Link's jaw ground as he exchanged stares with the Sheikah eye on the monk's veil. His gaze lowered into his boots. Though he had befriended the Sheikah, he still squirmed beneath their sigil. It seemed to disdain the Malice inside him, ever-watchful of the next time he would lose control. He vowed to never, _ever_ stoop to that level of savagery again — he'd rather die than become that monstrous.

Link shook his head, trying to chase away unpleasant memories. "I'm not the person I used to be. Not even close," he murmured, closing his fist as if trying to quell what lay within him. "Things are… different, now…"

The monk went quiet for a moment, somewhat confused by his dour tone. Surely, he hadn't changed all that much from one hundred years before? Consoling him nonetheless, the monk said, "I understand the toll of time. It weighs upon us all. But do not despair, hero — when you and I are through, you will be more than the person you were. Much, much more."

Brows furrowing, Link raised his eyes. What was he talking about?

" _Through?"_ he repeated.

"Indeed," Maz Koshia replied, gusto stealing his voice. "Such is my reason for existence — the reason you entered here… though you may not have known it." He raised his veil toward the ceiling, speaking to the heavens beyond. "Centuries ago, I received a vision from the Goddess, wherein I was tasked to tarry in this Shrine until you returned. She knew you would need aid, and chose me as her proxy. I was to guide and train you after your sacred slumber; to prepare you for your battle with the beast in every way that I could."

Inexplicable goosebumps darted across Link's skin as Maz Koshia spoke. The monk's chest puffed with pride. He lowered his gaze back to Link, raising his hands as if offering to take Link's into them. "I have spent the last ten thousand years perfecting my trial for you. I have tested it again and again, ensuring that it would challenge you in every way. As prophesied, your glorious arrival has come at last, and I intend to fulfill my charge with every fiber of my soul.

"Should you be so bold as to accept my trial, then I will test your might and counter your courage. Once complete, I will bestow upon you my blessing, and you shall emerge with the dexterity to combat calamity." He shook his head, continuing, "It will be no simple feat, but it will hone and shape you like no other test of skill could."

Pausing, he gestured to Link, who hadn't blinked since he started speaking. "So what say you, hero? You have slept. You have risen. Now, you have come to this Shrine. Will you accept my trial, and seize your divine destiny?"

Link's brain nearly flopped into his skull as he listened. His jaw dropped, his eyes widening. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. The monk's proposal was, for all intents and purposes, a godsend in the wake of his uncertainty after Izer. He had barely won that battle by fluke ferocity — and such tactics, if left unchecked, he feared would only worsen his predicament… or hurt someone he trusted. Hylia forbid he hurt anyone else. He could hardly live with killing a Yiga.

But a ten-thousand-year-old monk's wisdom and training would surely help mold him into the hero Hyrule needed — the hero Zelda needed. _Not_ a beast. This offering was everything he didn't realize he was missing. To accept it… to _combat calamity…?_ Perhaps combat the calamity within him, as well? He wouldn't hesitate to accept that.

Maybe the Goddess was smiling down on him, after all?

"...You're serious?" Link gasped, a new light filling his mind.

The monk nodded, gesturing to himself. "As serious as a dead man walking," he chuckled.

Link, blinking away his stupor, soon found himself nodding eagerly. A hopeful smile spread across his lips, his breath igniting in his lungs. "I would greatly appreciate your guidance. I could use every bit that I can get." He bowed his head respectfully. "Please, Maz Koshia — train me. I accept your trial."

Maz Koshia smiled widely behind his veil, his age-old aspirations coming into light. His voice brimmed with bright anticipation as he beamed, "Excellent. Your enthusiasm speaks to the promise of a hero. We shall begin immediately."

His spirited tone faltered, however, as he crossed his arms and began to pace around Link, inspecting him for what to offer him first. "I admire your resolve, but I must admit, you're… a tad different from the hero I was expecting," he mused, gesturing to his goggles and scarf peeking beneath his hood.

The excitement bubbling through Link's veins suddenly fizzled, a new swell of anxiety blooming, hot and panicked, inside his chest. He didn't like where this was going. His lungs stuttered; he leaned away almost invisibly when Maz Koshia came back around to face him, the eye on his veil honed in on his disguise.

"Forgive my curiosity," he began. "But why do you hide your face?"

The newfound dread within Link abruptly rotted into raw, nauseating disbelief. His stomach dropped into the floor, his spine stiffening. All at once, his mind churned with the unholy realization that the monk had no idea of the twisted power that coursed through his veins. As far as he knew, Link was unblemished by the claws of Calamity Ganon — he was the same Champion, if not an amnesiac one, that had been laid in the Shrine of Resurrection all those years ago.

Link stared, horrified, at the wise monk before him, completely unaware of how grossly ignorant he was. But how could that be? If the Goddess herself had inspired him… how could he not know?

 _Unless... ?_ No. That was impossible. How could even the _gods_ not know? Link's heart whimpered in his chest as grim theories stole into his thoughts.

When he fell deathly silent, the monk began to probe him with questions, concern rising in his voice. "Have you been injured? Or are you running from someone? Why do you hide?"

Curiosity overcoming him, he reached forward to touch Link's scarf. Link cringed away as if the monk had slapped him. Like a wounded animal, he raised his hands to protect himself.

"Don't," he pled.

Maz Koshia's body locked up at his reaction, his arm lowering. A moment of rigid silence passed.

"Link…" the monk murmured. All determination had immediately faded from him, his voice low and cautious. "Link, what's wrong?"

A bead of sweat slid down Link's neck. He pushed down the bile threatening to rise up his throat. After what felt like an eternity, he shook his head weakly, croaking, "...You don't know, do you?"

Taken by his words, Maz Koshia reared his chin back, his shoulders squaring. He considered his next words carefully, saying steadily, "Knowledge is a heavy mantle to bear, hero, and I have carried it without a murmur. By Hylia's grace, I know _legions._ I have seen the Great Calamity; heard the cries of its thousands of victims, felt Hyrule bleed as it burned beneath its conqueror. I saw you laid to rest in the Shrine of Resurrection; listened to the Princess's plights, every day, for one hundred years."

He then leaned forward, urging him, "I have seen all. _What_ don't I know?"

So it was true. He didn't know. The reality of that was… _insane._ Link's brain spun at the gruesome truth — the truth that, in that moment, gnawed at his insides until he felt hollow. He wasn't sure where to start. Where could he? A swamp of words stewed in his gut as he struggled to piece together a proper explanation. But how could he explain what he barely understood?

He didn't know why he was corrupted, nor did he know how. Ultimately, all he could muster was a few frail, shallow words.

"Something happened. I'm… not right."

There was another heavy pause. The gears in Maz Koshia's head ground as he inspected his hesitant hero through the lenses of his goggles, endeavoring to see through them.

"Show me," he demanded reverently.

Link forced down another bitter mouthful of dread. His bones jittered. He had no idea how the monk would react. From his experience revealing himself to others, he wasn't sure whether to expect an attack, an onslaught of horror… or something else. Divine intervention, perhaps? Would the gods, in their horror, strike him down where he stood?

He'd have to find out the hard way. With shaking hands, he slid back his hood and pulled his scarf and goggles away, exposing his face — horns, eyes, and all — for the monk to behold.

Maz Koshia gave a guttural gasp, stepping back. He nearly jumped out of his leathery skin when he accidentally tread on Dr. Calip's arm. They had both forgotten he was even in the room. Distancing himself from the unconscious man on the floor, Maz Koshia wrenched his attention back to Link. His fingers curled into fists that hovered near his ribcage, his head twitching as he repeatedly scoured Link's corrupted features with a disturbed sense of intrigue.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed.

Even after enduring many a reaction, Link would never get used to the initial shock he instilled in others. The monk was no exception. Somehow, his promise to train him made his knee-jerk reaction sting even worse. Link's heart turned to stone in his chest, his throat clenching. He withered under Maz Koshia's expectant gaze, his shoulders drooping.

"I don't know…" he sighed.

"What do you mean — _you don't know?"_ the monk repeated.

Link tangled his fingers in his hair, stuttering, "I-I mean that I woke up like this. In the Shrine of Resurrection. I don't know how it happened. I'm not sure, but maybe something went wrong, or — "

Maz Koshia abruptly pitched back in defiance. Link choked on a gasp and staggered away when the eye on the monk's veil began to burn with a vivid orange fire. Like a predatory giant, Maz Koshia prowled towards Link, his head cocked to the side. Link froze in his place, shrinking away from the blazing glare of the mummy bearing down on him.

"What's wrong with my Shrine?" he growled.

Link couldn't help himself from shaking in his shadow. _"My_ Shrine?"

"Yes — _my_ Shrine," Maz Koshia affirmed, slapping his hand against his clavicle. "I designed the Shrine of Resurrection. I built it with my own hands — it is the single-most sophisticated medical facility ever devised. _It does not make mistakes."_ He leaned in closer, his veil tickling Link's bony nose. "Tell me — _what's wrong with my Shrine?"_

"I-I don't know — I don't know, I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you," Link stammered. It all came back to him in a grisly flood. "Something was wrong with it when I woke up. E-everything was red, the bed was cracked. And then, th-the Slate... I think I did something to it — "

"The Sheikah Slate, as well?!" Maz Koshia sputtered, cutting him off. His eyes flew to Link's belt.

"...Yes," Link winced, showcasing it from its place on his hip to the monk. The device seemed to take heed to his attention, flashing and trilling as if to wiggle its nonexistent fingers at him.

Before Link could react, Maz Koshia's hand shot out and snatched the Slate from his belt. He held it up to his veil, his searing Sheikah eye boring into it with awe and disgust.

Just as they had in Kakariko, both Link and the Slate simultaneously writhed with anxiety upon being separated. Link broke out into a cold sweat, his gut seething with noxious panic. He jerked involuntarily forward, hand outstretched for the Slate.

"WAIT!" he cried, clamoring to take it back before he did anything desperate.

But the Slate took matters into its own hands — it adamantly refused to be parted from its master. Not again. It sparked with violent shades of crimson, shrieking in the monk's grasp. The sound resembled glass shattering — it scratched at their ears like a knife. Maz Koshia reared his head back, startled by its reaction. But he didn't release it. To ensure that he did, the Slate all but exploded, giving off a boiling gush of black, sludgy Malice from deep inside it. The Malice lapped at Maz Koshia's fingers — he immediately let go, the Slate hitting the floor with a wet _splat._

Maz Koshia backed away with a gasp, his hands thrown in the air. Both he and Link stared at where the Slate had fallen, lying amidst a spitting, corrupted puddle. After a moment, the pair watched it gather its Malice back into itself, reverting it to normal.

Though his body had petrified, Link's heart bashed itself senseless against his ribs, begging him to take it back. As if to snap him out of it, the Sheikah Slate chirped at him. Automatically, he tread forward as though he were crossing a thin sheet of ice, stooped, and picked it up. Reunited with its master, the device hummed and dulled its lights, quieting down.

Link slowly brought his gaze back up to Maz Koshia. His blood ran cold in his veins. In the aftermath, he found that the monk had gone awfully rigid apart from his head — he shook it, back and forth, almost robotically.

It took the monk a moment or two to collect himself. "This is a disturbing revelation," he breathed, pressing his fingertips to his temples. The fire igniting his veil doused. _"Very, very_ disturbing. What's worse is that this... _eluded_ me, somehow… How could this have happened…?"

A moment of grave silence passed as the monk hunted through his mind to find the blindspot in his sight. Thousands of years of memories rang, clear as day, in his skull — but none showed him Link's corruption. None of them. It didn't make any sense.

"I was on my way to find that out," Link muttered, recapturing the monk's gaze. "To Hateno Village. I was told that someone there might be able to take a look at me and maybe… get it out."

The monk released a shaky sigh, wringing his hands until his knuckles cracked. "Very well. I'm afraid the trial can wait — we must investigate at once." He nodded to him. "I'm coming with you."

Though the notion of the monk accompanying him startled him — for reasons he couldn't name — Link didn't argue. The fact that the monk had been blindsided by his condition was unprecedented, as was the Sheikah Slate's outburst. Neither of them had seen it fly into such a frenzy, before. It truly was disturbing, as the monk had put it. They needed answers, and they needed them _fast._

At the very least, however, Maz Koshia wasn't lunging forward to slay Link. No, he wanted to understand. He _needed_ to understand, and Link needed to, as well. He was grateful for the change of pace. And the more people he had on his side, the better.

"Okay," Link replied, wetting his lips. "Let's go." He reapplied his scarf and goggles and set out with Maz Koshia to Hateno.

Before they could leave, they had to take care of Dr. Calip. They didn't deliberate long on what to do with him. They left him where he had fallen while Maz Koshia scribbled a single word into his notebook in Sheikah writing. _Shrine._ He thought the doctor ought to know what ancient wonder he had stumbled upon. He'd just have to figure out the rest. They opened his notebook, draped it over his nose, and left him be.

At the urgency of the monk, the two of them left the Shrine behind and retraced Link's steps beyond the overgrown glade and back into the wild. When they arrived at the road, Maz Koshia slowed and stopped, staring into the dirt.

"Everything okay?" Link asked, pausing.

The monk was quiet for a moment. "Yes — it's just been centuries since I've walked this soil." He placed his bare foot forward, burying his toes into the dirt. When he spoke again, a wistful smile hinted his words. "I've missed it."

Link's eyes ran along the walls of canyon shooting up around them. He breathed in the morning air, savoring it, trying to cleanse the panic from his blood. "Me too," he agreed.

His smile fading, Maz Koshia gave a small sigh and peered down the road. His long hair fluttered beside his elbows in the passing breeze. "Do you have our heading, Link?" he asked.

Link peered down at the Sheikah Slate, booting up the map. His eyes ran from his personal marker to the glowing pin that marked Hateno Village far east. "Yes. From what I'm seeing, we should make it to Hateno around midnight… er, maybe a little later. Somewhere around there, I think."

Maz Koshia grumbled to himself and folded his arms. "That long? Perhaps…? Hrm… no, I doubt their Travel Gate is online…" he mumbled, tapping his fingertips against his bicep.

Link blinked. "Their what?"

"Nothing, nothing," the monk dismissed. "Just thinking aloud. We have no time to waste." He gestured to the road. "Come. Let's be off."

Without further delay, the pair banked a left and began to walk.

The canyon beyond Fort Hateno was a wholly different experience from the terrain Link had previously walked. It lay rather open-faced beneath the wide sky spanning above it, inviting the wind to play along its rugged slopes. A river swept beside its thick, overgrown trails, nipping at the ankles of the towering cliffs that plodded alongside them. As they traveled, they found themselves moving with the land, scaling hills and depressions between shimmering pockets of sunlight. The earth seemed to rise and fall as if it were alive, breathing, soaking the wild into its lungs. The beauty surrounding them somewhat soothed Link's resurged anxiety.

But while they hiked up the trail further into the canyon, Link couldn't help but grow stiff as he strode alongside Maz Koshia — for a few reasons. For starters, he, again, felt tiny compared to his imposing stature. Though the monk was bony and weathered, he nevertheless commanded the air around him with his presence alone. Link had no earthly idea what he would do if they met other travelers on the road. For once, it might not be him who sent them running.

In addition, for the first chunk of their journey, the two of them walked in utter silence. Even the sounds of their feet crunching against the trail seemed to shatter the tense air around them. It agitated Link's very skin, somehow. He had someone to talk to, now, but didn't dare bother Maz Koshia. The monk's concentration was palpable. Link hoped that, if he let him think, he'd come up with a solution to his predicament. Something. Anything. Surely, he had to have some idea of what to do?

The tension between them was by no means Maz Koshia's intent. As they walked, his mouth remained screwed shut, his mind speeding and his eyes glazed ahead. The monk found himself drowning in a new wellspring of questions. He was both frustrated and fascinated by this turn of events; Link's corruption had certainly been the very last thing he expected when he finally met the new hero.

Alas, even with centuries of knowledge filling his head, Maz Koshia struggled to comprehend it all. At length, his thoughts had spun themselves threadbare. He massaged his temples, endeavoring to untangle the jumbled knots of theory and doubt that bound his brain. Finally, he decided to give it a rest. It was no use thinking himself to death before he had the chance to fulfill his duty to the Goddess.

"So, Link," the monk sighed, breaking what had felt like a lifetime's-worth of silence. He turned his head, continuing, "Your condition… you have no idea why it beset you? Or how? You simply… awoke like this?"

Link felt he could breathe again now that they were speaking. He pried his eyes from the Sheikah Slate, giving a reluctant shrug. "Believe me, I was as shocked as you were when I first saw this face." He tucked himself into his scarf, not wishing to relive his time in the ruined church. "I'd give anything to get rid of it."

"I don't blame you for that. I'm sure your journey has not been easy," the monk sympathized. "We can only hope our visit to Hateno will prove fruitful."

Link shook his head. "If it isn't… I don't know what I'm going to do," he breathed.

The monk's tone was faint when he murmured, "There isn't much you _can_ do, hero — except carry on. That is all any of us can do. We did it once, amidst the ashes of the Great Calamity. And we can do so again." Maz Koshia, in spite of his unease with what Link carried inside him, set his palm on Link's shoulder, much to his shock. "Do not despair just yet. We will find a way. Even in darkness, the light always finds a way."

A hint of a smile found Link's lips. He appreciated his wisdom, as well as his sympathy. They were two kindnesses that weren't given to him easily.

Maz Koshia continued to surprise him as he said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I know this is not your fault. I'm afraid this is all very new to me — I am not accustomed to surprises. They frighten me."

"It's all right — I'm getting used to it," Link replied glumly. "My life's been nothing but surprises ever since I woke up."

"I imagine it has been." The monk then clasped his hands, wondering, "I have grown curious about your experience, thus far. For whatever reason, it, too, has evaded me. Tell me, what has Hyrule been like, through your new eyes?"

Link frowned, thinking back. "Wild. Unforgiving. And yet… it's been wonderful, as well," he replied quietly, his time with the Sheikah, as well as his audience with King Rhoam, cooling his thoughts. "Somehow, I've been able to make some friends."

Maz Koshia tilted his head thoughtfully. "Please, tell me everything. It seems I have much to catch up on."

Link's breath caught, and he ground his jaw. It was either tell him, or spend the rest of the day in silence. "It's sort of a long story…" he murmured.

"Well, we have a ways to walk. And I do love a good story. Go on, I will listen."

"All right, here goes..." Link agreed.

Link failed to realize how therapeutic it would be to discuss his journey thus far. He hadn't gotten the opportunity to revisit his experiences in such detail with anyone, before. As he spoke, the tension he hadn't realized had built up in his body left him. With every memory that drifted in and out of his mind and mouth, he realized he had been through much more than he had imagined.

For the next little while, he told Maz Koshia his tale from the very beginning, going into depth about waking up in the reddened Shrine, then to his first contact with Zelda, and beholding Calamity Ganon consuming Hyrule Castle. He retold his visit with King Rhoam and the tragic history he imparted upon him, his strange exchanges with the Guardians, of following the corrupted dragon, his time with the Sheikah. Of Impa, Paya, Dorian, Cottla. Their faces brought a smile to his own.

But when he found himself on the cusp of his run-in with the Yiga, he choked on his own story, terrified of what Maz Koshia would think of him and his monstrous outburst. He hadn't exactly taken the news of his Shrine and the Sheikah Slate in-stride.

Throughout Link's tale, the monk listened politely, only interjecting with a few questions here and there. But when Link paused, he raised his head and spoke up.

"I sense hesitation in you. What don't you want to tell me? What else happened in Kakariko?" he pressed.

Their pace had slowed by then. Link, for some reason, felt weak in the knees. He stopped, looking ahead blankly. The monk came to a stop as well. They stood on a breezy, stone-studded crest of the trail overlooking the rolling valley beneath them. Link stared beyond Maz Koshia, trying to focus on the wild and not on the screams gurgling out of his suppressed memories.

"I… I did something. Something _horrible,"_ he wheezed, his lungs rattling. "I'll never forgive myself for it."

Link's fear soured the air around them, making the monk's lips purse. Clearly, whatever had happened had scarred the poor Hylian. Maz Koshia took Link by the shoulder, suggesting softly, "Sit down for a moment. Tell me what happened."

Link shook his head wordlessly. Despite this, the monk continued to urge him, tightening his grip slightly. His voice was calm, comforting, encouraging. Like a father imploring his son. "I think it will help if you tell me. Please, sit down."

Suddenly numb, Link obeyed against his better judgement, sinking into a seated position. He waited for a few moments while Maz Koshia settled onto the ground beside him before he dared dig up his harrowing actions from that night. They festered across his brain like a disease.

"A Yiga broke into the village," he began, his voice cold. "He took the Sheikah Slate. Hurt Paya. I went with Dorian to face him. Dorian tried to hand me over to him in exchange for the Sheikah Slate. I fought back, and… I…" He trailed off, his throat clenching. He went on, his voice breaking, "I killed him."

There was a heavy pause.

"Not all death is wrong," Maz Koshia finally murmured. "Sometimes, we must kill for the greater good."

Link's hands flew to his hood, where he clawed into his hair. "No. No — this was _wrong._ I didn't just kill him — I _destroyed_ him." He brought one hand down and glared, eyes burning, into his palm, spitting, "I reached inside him, shattered every bone in his body. _I melted him down into a puddle while he begged for his life."_

Maz Koshia leaned back suddenly, a pang of fear flickering across his spine at the image that came into his head. It was as incredible as it was disquieting. He said nothing as he watched Link's breath surge in and out of his lungs in short, staggered bursts, his mind boiling.

"And it was all because of this… _wretched_ poison inside me," Link hissed. "He wanted it. Almost _hungered_ for it. And I killed him with it."

They sat in silence for a few moments while Maz Koshia gathered his thoughts. Part of him feverishly desired to see Link's poison in action, to analyze it, but the other was thoroughly frightened by its power. All the same, he figured asking Link to demonstrate it for him in his current state of mind would prove disastrous. Instead, he decided to change the tide of their conversation. It was his turn to tell tales.

"What a fitting end for a Yiga," he finally said, wrenching Link out of his loathing. "Such is the fate of fools who do not understand the power they seek. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, and the Yiga Clan are well overdue for their lesson."

Link's brows sank low over his wide eyes. He raised his heavy head. "What do you mean?"

"The Yiga Clan are as old as I am, Link," Maz Koshia explained, much to Link's shock. "They weren't always the fiends they are now. I remember a time when they were once part of the Sheikah." His head drooped, his mind filling with sad, distant memories. "I called many of them my brothers and sisters. We worked in laboratories across Hyrule, tinkering with the technology that made the kingdom the blossoming civilization it once was."

Maz Koshia raised his eyes to the sky, his heart sinking. "With our efforts, we created technological feats of which mankind had never seen. As the King told you, we invented the Guardians, the Divine Beasts, the Shrines, the Sheikah Slate, and much more. There wasn't an inch of the kingdom we had not inspired. We gloried in our achievements, for we had no equal — not even the wrath of Calamity Ganon could withstand our technological prowess."

Link stirred where he sat. "You fought Calamity Ganon?" he breathed. "I thought — well, King Rhoam told me — that that was just a legend."

The monk turned the Sheikah eye on him. "All legends stem from somewhere, hero. I lived through it. Watched as it _became_ legend."

Link's blood slowed in his veins. His thoughts swam with blurry bursts of a war he couldn't remember. "What was it like? His attack?"

The monk sighed through his nose. "Great and terrible. He attacked with the fury of a god and the mindless rage of a blood-starved beast. But that was his downfall. He was blinded by his hatred, charging into the kingdom without heed. True, he devastated everything in his path, but without strategy, he had no chance of success. Our machines rose to defend us, and he was sent, howling and defeated, into the ashes of his own undoing.

"That day changed the kingdom forever. The people, though grateful for our assistance, began to see the Sheikah as threats. Thanks to our technology, we had defeated a demon. But people began to murmur, fearing that, should we have desired it, we would overthrow the crown and take Hyrule. We assured the people that that was far from the case, but we were overruled. The royal family commanded us to denounce our technology and live in peaceful exile."

Link leaned back and shook his head, baffled — and somewhat disgusted — by his story. "That doesn't sound fair," he protested. "Why should you be seen as a threat when you _defeated_ the real threat to the kingdom?"

Maz Koshia shrugged. "It was what it was. Fear and paranoia bring out the worst in people. The majority of us complied, settling in Kakariko and other places. Unfortunately, there were those of us who felt betrayed by the people they had labored so intensely to save. They found them ungrateful, selfish, foolish. With their legacy stripped from them, they founded a group that vowed revenge on those who had made them into outcasts. They became the Yiga Clan."

A chill rolled through Link's neck. Maz Koshia stated, "You may feel remorse for what you did to that Yiga you slayed, but I do not. They have committed more atrocities than you know." Link shuddered, thinking of Dorian's wife, his tongue going bitter. He had gotten but a taste of what they had done — but only a taste.

Maz Koshia went on, to Link's horror, "Among many, they sought out us monks, attempting to coerce us over to their ranks. If we refused, we were hunted down and killed for sport." He paused and pressed his palms together as if praying for the fallen. Pressing his steepled fingers into his veil, he continued, his voice grim, "Over the course of many bloody years, I watched as dozens of my brethren met their ends by Yiga blades. Our devotion to the Goddess was infallible — we refused to betray her radiance. And for that devotion, one by one, all were slain."

His hands fell into his lap. Link, his heart stone-cold, could only stare at him. A breeze whispered silently between them.

"Apart from me, that is," the monk murmured. "I was the lucky one. Hylia preserved me for this day; I am eternally grateful for her grace." He turned his head to Link, saying humbly, "Without it, I never would have fulfilled my task — I never would have met you."

Link swallowed, shuddering. "...I'm sorry about the other monks. I can't imagine how awful that must have been," he muttered, sorrow constricting his lungs. He hung his head. "And... I'm sorry I'm not who you thought I was."

The monk shook his head tenderly. "Do not apologize to me, Link. After hearing your experiences, I know you are more that hero now than you ever were. For facing your challenges in the shadow of this poison, I feel for you, and I commend you." He straightened, brandishing a fist. "Once we understand it, I will take the greatest pride in training you. You have my word."

Link's heart warmed at his words. He gave Maz Koshia a reverent bow of his head. "Thank you. I would be honored."

"Likewise," the monk nodded. Raising his head, he cast a glance into the sky, noting where the sun hung high above them. "Now, I believe it is as good a time as any to take a break. We ought to get some food in you. We still have a ways to go."

Link was suddenly reminded that he hadn't eaten anything at all that day — his stomach twinged, snarling, seemingly gesturing to his packs. He had been so entangled in his hectic morning that he had completely forgotten breakfast, and now, lunch. Needing no further coercion from both his stomach and Maz Koshia, he shook off his bags and sorted through the provisions Impa had packed for him, scrounging up some lunch for the two of them.

Impa had thought of everything. From foodstuffs to spices to pots and everything in-between. Link, uplifted from Impa's gifts and his conversation with Maz Koshia, busied himself with putting together a small fire. The flint Impa provided worked wonders for it. Once the fire had begun to crackle, he took up his and Paya's recipe book, flipping to something hearty to carry them through the day. He skewered several bass, some mushrooms, and carrots together, seasoned them, and set them against the flames.

Maz Koshia watched him work with delight. He hadn't had the need to cook in several thousand years. It reminded him of home. While he was looking forward to tasting the dish Link was preparing, something caught his eye as Link began to put away extra ingredients.

"Erm, Link…?" the monk began, a bit shyly.

He turned his head. "Huh?" He found Maz Koshia seated a tad stiffly, one of his hands curled near his veil. Even with it covering his face, Link could tell that his eyes had lit up upon seeing something lying across the grass.

He followed his gaze to it. The banana Calip had paid him with. He had taken it out without a second thought.

Maz Koshia pointed gingerly at it, requesting, "May I? Those were always my favorite."

Link didn't have any problem with him eating it. "Please, by all means." He picked it up, passing it to him. "Here."

The monk took it and gave him a grateful bow of his head. "Thank you very much," he said. Eager as he was to taste his favorite fruit, again, he waited until the skewers had finished cooking. When they were done, Link passed one to Maz Koshia, and, taking up an apple for himself, the two shared a meal.

Link couldn't help but watch Maz Koshia eat. It was a bizarre sight, beholding a mummy at a meal. He lifted his veil slightly to take careful, deliberate bites out of his food, chewing with petrified teeth. He didn't even bother removing the peel before consuming his banana. Link thought that strange, but he let it lie. He had certainly seen stranger things.

Lunch was pleasant, but they didn't dwell long; both grew anxious to resume their journey. After stamping out the fire, Link and Maz Koshia proceeded back onto the road. This time, they chatted. Link peppered the monk with questions about what life was like ten thousand years before. He answered with fondness and nostalgia in his voice, painting Link's mind with stories.

Meanwhile, Maz Koshia asked Link about his condition — what it felt like, if it was painful, if it impacted his sleep and his thoughts. Link replied as best he could, hoping he was providing enough to satisfy the monk's curiosity. Maz Koshia kept mental notes as they spoke.

Though they were both still ill at ease with Link's condition, they stowed their worries for the time being. Time would tell them exactly what they should worry about.

All in all, the rest of their trek was a welcome change from their walk prior. Though things had soured a bit between them initially, Link felt as though he had made another friend. And for that, he was grateful.

Despite the monk's aged body, he kept pace with Link well. They were making decent time. By the time the sun had begun to set, they could make out a cluster of lights in the distance. Link, excitement fluttering in his chest, raised the scope on the Sheikah Slate, peering through it. Sure enough, there it was. Hateno. The clusters of alabaster houses and tall windmills tucked on a hillside glistened in the setting sun, beckoning them.

Their destination in-sight, they quickened their pace.

When night fell, they stopped by the wayside while Link sorted through his pack for a lantern. Maz Koshia stood above him, scanning their surroundings. The road had since sloped into the valley floor, snaking between the gentle waves of hills tumbling along the plains. Along the way, they had spotted several weathered remnants of old outposts, as well as an abandoned, overgrown equestrian range. For some reason, the lost structures were unsettling in the dark. The shadows itching at his skin, Link stopped, insisting on finding a lantern.

He had just pulled one out of his pack when a strange sound rang into the night, startling them both. Maz Koshia held a hand out before Link when he jumped to his feet, a hand on the hilt of his sword, scouring the shadows for the culprit of the sound. It seemed to have come from the nearby riding range.

Link could only describe the sound as a kind of grunty, guttural grouse. Almost pig-like. It made his brows knit together — he had never heard anything like it. Maz Koshia raised himself up on his tiptoes and peered between the skeletons of the range's gatepost, searching. Then he spotted them, leaping out of the undergrowth, clubs in-hand, howling and chasing after something that squeaked as it bound out of the way.

"Shh-shhh!" Maz Koshia cautioned, hunkering down a little where he stood. Link followed his lead, his eyes finally catching the figures of their guests. "Keep quiet — they haven't seen us."

In that moment, the moon slid out of cover of the clouds, painting the night in sapphire moonlight. Link lowered his lantern, blinking at what the light illuminated: it was a pack of peculiar creatures, giving chase to a buck crowned with an impressive rack of antlers. He galloped across the equestrian range, leaping a fence with ease. The three smaller creatures tailing him were able to hop the fence, while the larger creature was forced to stop. With a rumbling roar, it waved its weapon: a tree trunk that had been crudely-fashioned into a club.

The larger creature watched its cohorts continue to give chase. Link inspected it. Compared to Maz Koshia, it was enormous, towering a good two heads above even him. It had deep, crimson skin and was built long and lanky, though it didn't lack for muscle; ragged strips of clothing hung from its pelvis and unkempt claws sprouted from its fingers and toes. It had beady eyes, a long, pig-like snout, and small ears that sagged toward the ground, a single horn jutting from its forehead. Judging by its size, it was the ringleader.

The other three creatures resembled it, though in more compact, exaggerated forms. They scurried across the ground waving chunky clubs in their fists, their oversized ears flopping as they went. Grunts of war gurgled out of their broad maws, their eyes aglow with the hunt. They, too, sported threadbare loincloths, pig-like snouts, and a single, small, stunted horn on their heads. They stood around Link's height, making them a tad less imposing than their leader. All the same, he didn't exactly envy the buck.

Maz Koshia and Link watched them chase the buck around the range for a moment or two. The monk murmured, informing Link of what he was looking at, "A Moblin and some Bokoblins. Foul creatures. They terrorize travelers and hunt and eat anything they can get their claws on. We'd best leave them be — we have other engagements."

Link didn't need telling twice. The last thing he wanted to do that night was delay their arrival at Hateno — they were nearly there as it was. He carefully put the lantern back into his bag and shouldered it. Leaving the monsters to their chase, he and Maz Koshia snuck away, navigating by moonlight.

Thankfully for their aching feet, their arrival at Hateno didn't take much longer. They wound along the last stretch of the road, scattering clouds of fireflies as they went, until they stood at the base of their final hill, coming face-to-face with the brick-and-mortar gatepost. It stood above them with open arms, the warm, twinkling lights of the village welcoming them after a long day's walk.

"We made it," Link beamed.

It was well past midnight, then, so thankfully, no one was around to greet them. It was a blessing in disguise — had anybody beheld Maz Koshia, Link highly doubted they would have been let in at all. That would have been just his luck. Had that been the case, he might have had to infiltrate the village — something he was much too tired to do. His eyes stung with fatigue and his hips were stiff, the soles of his feet burning. He'd give anything for a nice bed.

Maz Koshia read his thoughts. He clasped his hands, peering at him. "Come along. We ought to find you someplace to sleep. The Great Ton Pu Inn is just off the main marketplace." The pair began to climb the hill, passing under the gatepost. A bed of shaggy, overgrown cobblestones clapped under their feet as they walked.

Link's brows furrowed at Maz Koshia's suggestion. "You've been here before?" he wondered.

"Many times," the monk replied. "The vegetables grown here are good. As is the fresh air. I spent many a summer studying here." He smiled at the pale, red-shingled homes they strode between on the main road. "It hasn't changed much since my last visit."

Link joined him in taking in the village. He already felt somehow at home — like he had walked these streets before. The feeling itched at his brain. Several houses stood alongside garden plots lined with crops, guarded by scattered trees and the towering chimneys sprouting from every building. The windmills dotting the hillside sighed in the night breeze while crickets chorused in harmony. The village seemed to breathe deeply with the night, curled beneath the full moon.

Closing his eyes, Link breathed along with it. It was peaceful. He had been craving a peace like this.

He followed Maz Koshia past several houses and a slew of closed-up shops, peddling clothing, goods, and bottles of dye. At the far-end of the thoroughfare sat the biggest building of them all: the inn. It welcomed them closer with a flutter of its flags. Link walked forward eagerly — he could already feel the plush embrace of a bed coddling him off to sleep.

They paused briefly before entering, exchanging glances. Link shrugged, saying sheepishly, "Maybe you should stay here for a second. Let me grab a room and I'll meet you at it, okay?"

Maz Koshia shrugged. "Fair enough," he mused, leaning against a lamppost.

Securing his goggles, Link climbed the steps to the inn and slipped inside. He entered a spacious reception area aglow with subtle candlelight, equipped with a front desk. A young woman stood behind the desk, her chin leaned against her palm and her heavy eyes glued to a book laid beneath her. She didn't so much as look up when Link walked in.

Gulping down his anxiety at social interaction, he approached her. "Excuse me?" he said quietly, worried his voice would startle her. "I'd, er, like to rent a room, please."

She brought her eyes up from her book, blinking rapidly when she caught a glimpse of Link. The whites of her eyes were dry and rimmed with pink. To her panic, she shook her head, murmuring sleepily, "Sorry, pal, but we're all full. Just had a group of tourists roll in from Lover's Pond." She aimed a thumb at the door. "You're welcome to stay in the donkey stable if you're desperate. You'll have to pay for a bath in the morning, though."

Link's head dipped at her news, his weary eyes widening. He was crestfallen. He had been looking forward to sleeping in a bed. "O-okay. Thanks," he mumbled, tugging down his hood and shuffling out the door.

He flopped down the inn's steps with heavy feet, his head swimming from his exhaustion. He trudged back to Maz Koshia, sighing, "They're full. Looks like we're camping, tonight." He turned his head and gestured to a paddock nearby, where a few horses and donkeys stood tethered. "Unless we want to sleep there."

The monk looked from the stable to him, inspecting him for a moment. He frowned, bringing his arm around his back, ushering him forward. "We'll make it work. Come, I saw a nice spot just off of the entrance of the village."

The pair backtracked to the gatepost. Maz Koshia had been about to continue walking down the hill when Link took an unexpected left at a branching path. The monk paused, looking after Link as he walked, almost robotically, down the new path. It curved between several sets of brand-new houses. Model homes for a construction company.

"Link?" Maz Koshia called out. "Where are you going?"

Link didn't respond. He just kept walking, his eyes on his boots, his mind foggy. Confused, Maz Koshia pursued him, catching up with him as he proceeded to stride across a bridge spanning a brook. The monk attempted to recapture Link's attention, only to stop himself when he caught sight of what lay ahead.

A lone house stood on a modest outcrop of land. It sat in the shadow of a colossal apple tree that stretched nearly as tall as the chimney shooting out of the house. Wildflowers sprouted in the front yard amidst pickaxes and hammers. The windows were dark and the firepit near the apple tree was cold. Though it looked abandoned, Link nevertheless walked toward it as though he owned the place.

Maz Koshia gaped at what he was seeing, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Without a word, he followed Link as he approached the old house, swung the front door open, and stepped inside. The monk had to duck to enter. The moment he did so, he turned to watch as Link leaned against the wall and slipped his boots off, dumping them by the door.

Then, all at once, Link froze, suddenly coming back to himself. He stood stiffly, eyes flitting about the unfamiliar home he had just strolled into. It was like he had gone on autopilot. What was he doing?

"Whoa, where am I?" he wondered, turning his head toward Maz Koshia. "Does anybody live here?! Did I just barge in?!"

Maz Koshia gave an innocent shrug, gesturing to the dust-coated table and chairs in the heart of the room. "Not that I can see. It seems this house has been vacant for quite some time."

"Yeah…" Link mused, his brain feeling… off. Maybe it was just his exhaustion getting to him? Either way, he needed to get some sleep.

Puzzled, he took a closer look around. From what he could see in the half-darkness, the house was cozy. Plenty of room for one person to live comfortably — perhaps two. The moonlight filtering in through the window in the loft cascaded onto the objects laid about — bookshelves still packed with books, the dining room set, a fireplace, the small, slatted staircase. Curious as to what lay in the loft, Link padded across the creaky floorboards and up the stairs. He found a sizable bedroom equipped with a writing desk and several nightstands. The window bathed the bed in the corner in pale, inviting moonlight — it called out to him in an almost naggingly-familiar fashion.

Link approached the bed, nearly throwing himself onto it. He brushed off a layer of dust coating the pillow. It puffed beneath his hand, its plush material somehow jogging his memory. Without pulling his eyes from it, he called out, "You really don't think anybody lives here, Maz Koshia?"

The monk carefully made his way up the stairs and joined him in the loft. He shook his head, his smile hidden behind his veil. "Definitely not." He gestured around, musing, "I imagine that if we were to spend the night here, no one would notice."

Link's fingertips caressed the bed. Already, he was envisioning shedding his bags and crawling under the covers. "You think so?"

Maz Koshia watched his reaction to the house with happy fascination. "I know so. Go on. Rest your head. You've had quite the day, hero."

That was all the reasoning Link needed. Before he dumped his things onto the floor, he paused and turned to Maz Koshia. "But… where are you going to sleep?"

The monk shook his head, raising a hand. "No, I won't be sleeping." His gaze flickered to the Sheikah Slate, his mind swimming with the revelations of that morning. "I need to think. I'll be downstairs." Turning, he began to make his way down the steps, bidding Link goodnight with a wave. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

Link craned his head to watch the monk settle down on the floor in front of the fireplace, pressing his palms together and sitting cross-legged. He went as still as a statue, losing himself in his thoughts. Link's eyes were nearly glued shut by the time had realized he was keeping true to his word. He had no idea how late it was, but he didn't need to, nor want to. Removing his goggles, he set them on the nightstand and dropped his bags by his bedside. Casting the sheets back, he collapsed into bed in a poof of dust. But he didn't care. He melted into the mattress dust and all, his body breathing a sigh of relief. He nodded off almost instantly.

Downstairs, Maz Koshia smiled as he listened to Link's deep, drawing breaths. In spite of his hardships, he had made it through.

He was home.

* * *

 **And so the next leg of our journey begins! I can't wait for this Hateno segment, let me tell you. It'll be enlightening to Link, his new allies, as well as to you. I hope it entertains and excites you in all the right ways. :)**

 **I hope these traveling sections aren't boring... I've tried to include interesting sequences, bits of world-building, and little mini-stories to keep things from getting too blah. What do you think of these traveling bits? Should I trim them down? Or are they okay?**

 **Man, Maz Koshia has turned into such an intriguing character. More than I thought he would be. We'll definitely have to see more of him throughout the story. I thought that, since you return to the Shrine of Resurrection to begin his trial, that he ought to be the one that designed it. Seemed appropriate. I've been replaying Champions' Ballad to get into his character and have been having _way too much fun_ riding that Master Cycle. Hey, maybe I might include it somewhere in this story, too? Who knows? Until then, we've got lots of ground to cover with our new friend the monk. Stay tuned~!**

 **Let me know what you thought, and I'll see you in the next chapter! We'll meet some more fun characters, there. :) Thanks again for reading. You're amazing! See you later! :D**


	14. Dead to Rights

**Oh my gosh, it's finally here! The next chapter of _Corrupted Hero!_ Hip, hip, hurray!**

 **I feel SO awful for flubbing up my upload schedule. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to leave you all hanging. Life just kind of started to barrel-roll in the fall and all I could do was hold on until the dust settled. I am very sorry for the months-long hiatus. But things have calmed down, now, and I was able to finally sit down and finish up this chapter. Thank you readers, new AND old, for your patience. Your continued readership is very, very much appreciated. :)**

 **So this chapter is fun! I really had a great time writing it. :) It's a bit shorter than the last few, simply because I wanted to fit in certain scenes and get this to you faster. I just hope it's worth the wait... We'll meet some additional characters here in Hateno and I can't wait for you to read. I won't keep you any longer. Just do it!**

 **Enjoy! This is for YOU!**

* * *

Link had never slept more soundly in his life. While his nights in Kakariko were undoubtedly pleasant, they paled in comparison to the blissful rest he enjoyed in the empty house in Hateno. He dissolved into the bed that night, sleeping so deeply that he didn't even dream. He slept like a rock till nine in the morning, when something smashed against the outside wall, shocking him awake.

He nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound, gulping in a gasp and jolting upright. "What's that?!" he panicked. "What's going on?!"

He wasn't the only one who had gotten a rude awakening. Maz Koshia jolted so hard his hat fell off, the eye on his veil burning with a defensive fire. The monk scrambled to his feet and exchanged a fleeting glance with Link before his head followed the chorus of crashing echoing into the house. It seemed to come from all sides — heavy, clacking thuds that shook the walls and window panes.

"...I think there is someone outside," Maz Koshia said, brows furrowed. He carefully slipped his hat back on. "Who that may be, I'm not sure...?"

Link, fully awake now, turned to the bedside window. He had no idea what he would find out there, but nevertheless flew to investigate. He took up a sword just in case. Snatching his goggles, he yanked them over his face and crawled to the window, opening it and poking his head out.

His eyes were immediately wrenched to the source of the racket: a young man was hard at work swinging the head of a sledgehammer against the house, dislodging bricks as he went. When the window opened, the young man glanced up, half-noticed Link, and reared his arms back to strike the house again. It took him a few seconds to do a double-take once he registered Link's presence.

The young man blinked and took a step back, his dark brows knitting together. "Hey! What are you doing?!" he cried, making Link jump and thunk his head against the window.

Link rubbed the back of his head, stammering, "W-what are _you_ doing?!"

"I'm workin', here!" the young man replied, gesturing his hammer to the house. "This place ain't gonna tear itself down. You shouldn't be in there! Get out, right now!"

Link blinked, stunned. He hadn't expected this. It took a moment for the young man's words to sink in, but even so, Link remained in his place, his body still trying to catch up with his brain. Why was the house being torn down at all?

When Link failed to react, the young man inspected him more closely. His eyes trailed from Link's goggles to his disheveled red hair. "...Wait, were you _sleeping_ in there?" the young man wondered, his face screwing up.

"I-I, uh…" Link mumbled, beginning to sweat.

His blatant guilt was enough of an answer. The young man finally overcame his surprise. Squinting, he held Link in his gaze, turned his head, and shouted for someone. "Boss!? We got a situation!"

Link's stomach dropped. "Oh, no," he muttered under his breath.

He suddenly wished he hadn't slept there. The last thing he wanted was to make a scene. He'd already gone and done that in Kakariko… with disastrous results. But how was he to know that the house was being torn down? Either way, he had to get out of there before he somehow became the scourge of the village. Again.

Without another word, Link shot back inside, slammed the window shut, and hurried off of the bed. He heard the young man shout from outside, "Hey! Get back here!" followed by a flurry of footsteps.

"Crap — _crap!"_ Link hissed to himself. He didn't bother making the bed. He seized up his scarf and packs, shimmying into the straps and sheathing his sword. In his blind haste, he tripped over his own feet as he stampeded down the stairs.

Thankfully, Maz Koshia caught him before he crashed face-first on the floor. "Thanks," Link wheezed.

"Don't mention it."

Righting himself, Link fumbled with his scarf with shaking hands. "We gotta go, Maz! _Now!"_

Maz Koshia didn't object. He remained calm in spite of everything. But his brows hadn't relaxed — they remained crinkled as he turned his head towards the door. He handed Link his boots, mumbling, "I don't understand why they are doing this… It's not as if you told them to knock down your own house."

Link had been in the middle of hopping on one foot, tugging a boot on, when the monk's words stopped him cold. His head snapped up, his brows skyrocketing. "Wait, _what?!"_

Before he could prod any further, the front door burst open. Link, already jumpy as it was, flinched and lost his balance, falling to the floorboards in a heap. He faced the three figures standing against the wave of brilliant morning light pouring into the house, his hair frazzled, his goggles askew, scarfless and hoodless, one boot on. Like a tall shadow, Maz Koshia slunk behind the door, hiding from the men who proceeded inside.

Physically, they weren't intimidating by any means. But in that moment, they might as well have been Moblins, what with Link's paralyzing fear of human interaction coupled with the fact that he had been caught trespassing. He cowered beneath them, his spine stiff and his heart stopped cold.

The young man had brought his coworkers. The man next to him was stocky and had a bushy mustache and eyebrows, a pickaxe slung over his shoulder. The other man leading them must have been the boss — slender and confident, he held a logbook in one hand and had a pencil tucked behind his ear. They all wore blue vests, with the boss sporting bright pink trousers and a puffy, striped collar.

"That's the guy, Bolson," the young man said, pointing at Link where he lay. Link cringed upon being spoken to. "He was sleeping here!"

The boss, who Link now knew as Bolson, inspected him with a curl of his lip and tight eyes. Link was too paralyzed to do or say anything. He could only pray that Bolson wouldn't look too closely at his the tips of his horns peeking through his tousled hair. He hadn't gotten his hood on in time.

Miraculously, Bolson was more interested in corroborating his employee's story. He looked from Link and to the loft, making note of the messy bed. He tutted, returning his attention to Link.

"What is going _on?"_ he demanded. "What are you _doing,_ young man, squatting in this empty house? This is private property. What are you, some sort of _bum?_ "

Anxiety boiled in Link's stomach. He somehow managed to say, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't think it would be a problem! I just needed someplace to spend the night."

Bolson raised a brow. "What, and the Ton Pu Inn suddenly lacked rooms? They don't call it great for nothing, y'know."

Link tried to explain himself. Perhaps he could somehow talk his way out of this mess? It hadn't exactly worked for him before, but he at least had his goggles to hide behind this time. They hadn't seen his face… yet.

"They were full. Really. That was what the girl at the desk told me," Link said. Bolson's brows remained low, unconvinced. Link gulped again, his gaze flickering to where Maz Koshia hid behind the door, silently begging him for help. The monk stood statue-like, listening. He held a finger to his veil as if to shush him.

Unsure as to what he meant by that, Link went on, slowly raising himself into a crouch.

"I'm so sorry — I didn't mean to intrude," he repeated. "I'll leave right now. A-and I'll never come back. You'll never see me again. I promise."

The three men exchanged glances. Link thought for a moment that he had evaded punishment.

Bolson finally shook his head, sighing. "I suppose that even _if_ the inn was full, we'll have to report you to Thadd, regardless. He likes to keep tabs on visitors — especially the _ne'er-do-wells."_ He motioned for his employees, much to Link's horror. Bolson continued, "Karson, Hudson, gents, grab him, won't you? Our little squatter's coming with us."

Karson, the young man, and Hudson, the man with the mustache, obeyed and put down their tools, advancing toward Link.

A bomb of raw panic exploded in Link's chest, blasting his heart into his throat and sending him scrambling away. But he didn't get far — his head hit the dining room table, coaxing a wheeze of terror out of him. _Not again._ He couldn't believe this was happening _again._ He couldn't repeat his introduction to Kakariko, his outburst, his imprisonment — he just couldn't. He wasn't sure if his heart and his conscience could take it.

He tried in vain to reason with them. "There's no need for that, really!" he stuttered, shying away from the advancement of Karson and Hudson. "Please, I don't understand why this is such a crime! I didn't mean anything by it!"

Bolson shrugged. "Even if you didn't, we don't take trespassing lightly. What gives you the right to just waltz into someone else's home unannounced? This place doesn't belong to _you,_ now does it?"

"Well, no, but I — !"

But Bolson wouldn't hear it, cutting him off with a huff and another shake of his head. There was no getting through to him. Link choked as his attention was pulled back to Karson and Hudson, who were nearly upon him.

He had no idea what to do. What _could_ he do? He didn't dare defend himself. Not with the possibility of his Malice erupting from him. Should he flash them his face and send them screaming? That might have been his last resort, though he loathed the thought of it. Heart climbing into his throat, he sorted through his limited options. It seemed he had no choice.

But just as he was about to reach for his goggles, a deep, calm voice interrupted them.

"Pardon me, but I have evidence otherwise."

Everyone's attention jerked toward the source of the voice. Link almost collapsed with relief when he recognized it. Maz Koshia slid out from the cover of the door, clasping his hands and gazing upon them all like a judge. Bolson and his men all froze, shrinking beneath the monk's ancient gaze.

"Who… w-who are you?" Bolson breathed, taking in the monk's bones jutting through his leathery skin; the shadows playing off of his skeleton made him look like he had just crawled out of a grave.

Maz Koshia turned his veil upon Bolson, making him flinch back. The monk replied cordially, "I am Maz Koshia, and I know many things." He pointed a bony finger toward the logbook in the crook of Bolson's arm. "For instance, if you look at your records, you will find the title deed to this house." He then gestured toward the rafters, saying, "One hundred years ago, this house's owner set off for Hyrule Castle to report for service. He never came back, and, as you know, left this place vacant ever since.

"Until now, of course." He aimed an open palm at Link, who remained silent, agape at the tale the monk was weaving. "This is he: Link, the owner. Now, I'm sure he would appreciate it if you didn't run him out of his own house."

For what felt like an eternity, everyone stared at the monk, dumbstruck. Bolson finally managed to drag his gaze away and flipped through his logbook, his eyes bulging over his records. Near the back of his book, he found the faded sheet for the house and skimmed through it. His tongue soured when he read Link's name. How had this bizarre creature known about this?!

Turning back to the monk, Bolson gawped, "B-but that's impossible! That was a century ago! He should be dead by now!"

Maz Koshia shrugged. "Well, when you put it that way, yes, I suppose he should be. But he is quite the opposite, as you can see." Pausing, he then tucked an arm beneath his ribcage and rested his elbow on it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hm… Now that I think about it, I should be, too... What do you think?"

He then proceeded to peel away his veil, exposing his face. Black, empty eye sockets and an open maw full of petrified teeth grinned down at them, weathered skin pulled tight over his skull. The jaws of the men before him all gave a collective drop, their eyes widening to the size of dinner plates — Link included.

Maz Koshia tilted his head with a disturbing crack of his neck, musing, "Do I look dead to you, Bolson?"

Bolson and his employees ripped the air apart with their screams. Turning tail, they stampeded out the door, casting down their belongings and tripping over each other in their desperate escape, howling as they went.

Link stared after them, amazed. A small smile crept across his mouth. He jumped when Bolson's logbook slammed against the floor.

Maz Koshia leaned over to watch them retreat through the doorway. When they had vanished around the corner, a bright giggle bubbled out of him. "Well, that was fun," he said, reapplying his veil. He rested his hands on his hip bones as he thought aloud, "Although, in hindsight, I probably could have handled that a bit better..."

Link blinked off his amazement, gazing up at him. "How do you mean? That was… brilliant."

The monk shrugged. "Why, thank you, Link, but I'm afraid they have a story to tell, now... though I doubt anybody will believe them."

Link's smile faded, his thoughts dawning with what they had just done. If he thought about it, he also doubted anyone would believe Bolson's hysterical tales of a walking, talking mummy. But even so, their fear was surely justified enough to prompt an investigation. And things would only worsen from there. Link suddenly found himself out of breath at the thought of facing another village full of terrified people.

Dread and anxiety brewed in his blood. Link held his head and slumped against the table, groaning, "No, no, no — what did I _do?_ Oh, this is turning into Kakariko all over again…!"

Maz Koshia shook his head. "Not unless we hurry. Come along," he inspirited. "We'll slip away to the research lab before they come back with the others. It will be like we were never here."

Ah, the lab. In all the commotion, Link had almost forgotten what they had come to Hateno for in the first place. The reminder of their purpose reignited some hope within him. Stoking that fire, Maz Koshia offered Link his hand and pulled him to his feet. Once Link had tugged on his other boot and donned his scarf and hood, the pair rushed out of the house.

As they made their way out, Link cast a glance over his shoulder. Somehow, the house's face had changed — it seemed more familiar to him, the glint of sunlight on its windows like a friendly wink. He suddenly felt as though he had seen it a million times over. But could it truly be _his_ house? The thought of that made him feel something akin to belonging.

But he'd have to ask Maz Koshia about it later. For the moment, they couldn't linger. Not wasting a second, they darted across the dewy grass and onto the bridge, bypassing the cluster of model homes on the outskirts of the village. Before they turned onto the main road, Maz Koshia brought the two of them to a halt, where they paused for a moment, hiding behind the main gatepost.

Maz Koshia scouted ahead. Link followed his lead, peering around the monk's bony elbow and into the village. Hateno thrived before them in the fresh morning light, birdsong and chatter filling the air. Children darted about the main thoroughfare, chasing each other with wooden play swords, while shopkeepers beckoned to the dense groups of travelers wandering between storefronts.

Link scoured the crowds for any sign of Bolson and his employees, only managing to track them down when he spotted the unmistakable pink of Bolson's trousers. Link squinted at them all where they stood near a house at the village mouth. They were swarming around a man in a farmer's hat, flinging their arms in the air maniacally. He couldn't hear what they were saying above the bustle of the village, but nonetheless knew they were panicking about Maz Koshia. The man in the hat's brows furrowed. He picked up a pitchfork he had thrust in the ground and asked them something.

Link's heart staggered in his chest, his breath catching. "Too late, Maz," he worried, shaking his head. "They've already told someone!"

Maz Koshia, level-headed as always, didn't so much as blink. "We'd best be quick, then. Look there!" the monk said, grabbing Link by the shoulder and pointing toward the sky. Link followed his finger, laying eyes on a distant tower crowning a soaring hilltop above the village. "There's the lab. We will make our way there. Hurry, now!"

Giving Link a pat on the back, he ushered him toward Hateno proper before dashing away toward the model homes nearby.

Link, grinding to a stop for only a second, called after him, "Wait! Where are you going?"

Maz Koshia waved, calling back, "I'll take another route! I'll follow you up!" before he slipped behind a home and vanished.

Link chewed his lip, worried that someone would see him. How could they not? Ultimately, the reminder of Bolson and the pitchfork-wielding man spurred his feet into action. He had to have faith that the monk knew what he was doing. He had been to Hateno before, after all. Grasping the clasp of his hood, Link ducked his head and jogged into the village.

He wove through the throng on the thoroughfare quickly and quietly, his gaze flickering about for any trace of Bolson or Maz Koshia. But he couldn't seem to find either anywhere he looked. He was grateful for Bolson's scarcity, but how could a towering mummy just disappear? Growing ever more anxious, Link engrossed himself in his search, driving his feet forward. But his anxiety distracted him. He only noticed the man standing in his path until after he had bulldozed him into the dirt.

They hit the ground hard, the man landing flat on his face. Link ended up draped across him. The basket the man had been carrying fell as a result, half a dozen eggs and a bottle of milk cracking open on the ground. Passersby scattered. When the dust had settled, Link realized with a rush of horror what he had done. Gasping, he scrambled off of the poor stranger, rushing to help him.

"Oh man, I am _so sorry,"_ Link apologized, getting on hand and knee and reaching for the remains of the man's groceries. Eggshells and yolk slathered the grass; the man's glasses lay in a puddle of milk. Link gathered what was intact, his cheeks burning. "I wasn't watching where I was going, I am so sorry."

Grunting, the man pulled his nose out of the dirt, squinting about him. "Hey, it's no trouble," he dismissed with a grimace. "Busy morning. We've all got places to be."

He eased himself up, feeling around for his glasses. Link, still awash with guilt, placed the surviving eggs into the man's basket and plucked up his glasses, making sure he wiped the lenses on his shirt. But just as he was about to hand them to him, Link froze, finally getting a decent look at the man.

He was a Sheikah. Link recognized the cream-colored coat, pants, and sandals he wore, as well as their trademark silvery hair pulled neatly into a bun atop his head. The man looked to be in his thirties, and sported a trimmed beard and, of course, his glasses, which he continued to search blindly for.

Through blurry vision, the Sheikah turned to Link, who sat motionless in disbelief, still holding out the glasses. A Sheikah was the last thing Link had expected to see this morning. Besides Maz Koshia, of course. Impa had never mentioned there were others outside of Kakariko.

The Sheikah man peered closer at the smudge of his glasses in Link's hand, a smile finding his face. "Oh! Thanks — won't go far without those." He took them from Link, sliding them onto his nose. Now able to see clearly, he offered Link another smile that only lasted for half a second before it slackened.

The man's brows furrowed as he inspected Link's headgear. "...Interesting goggles you have there," he mused. Link couldn't help from breaking into another sweat under his scrutiny. Gaze sifting through Link's lenses, the man continued, "I don't think I've seen you in town before. Where did you get those, if I may?"

Link only managed to answer with an, "Er…" before the man's eyes wandered further. They drifted to Link's cerulean tunic for a moment, widening some, until they landed on the Sheikah Slate on Link's hip. The man's face drained, his lips parting in a silent gasp.

"By the gods…! Is that…? That thing on your waist? Is that a _Sheikah Slate?!_ " he breathed.

"Y-yeah," Link said, his hand flying to the device for some reason. It seemed to pulse with a nervous heartbeat as the man studied it with dumbfounded fascination.

The man's breath kicked up as he gasped with excitement. "There's no mistaking it — that's a real Sheikah Slate, isn't it?! I-I've never actually seen one in person! Wow!" He abruptly paused, his eyes glazing over. His gaze snapped back up to Link as he began, "...Er, your name wouldn't happen to be Link, would it?"

Link blinked, taking his chin back. "That is my name, yes. And you're... you're a Sheikah, aren't you?"

The man nodded. "That I am." He leaned forward eagerly. "And you came from Kakariko?!"

Link nodded back, his brows knitting together. This was happening much too fast. How did he know all that? Link had never met him before.

The man, completely forgetting his errands, leapt to his feet and held out a hand. "Link — I'm Symin. Pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure, believe me." Bewildered, but not wishing to be rude, Link took his hand and stood. Symin went on, a glimmer in his eye as he gripped Link's hand and began to pull him along, "Come with me, please. We've been expecting you."

" _We?"_ Link wondered, his brain stumbling over itself.

Symin waved away his question. "I'll explain in a minute. We need to go, right now! Never mind the shopping." Doubling back, he scooped up his basket and motioned for Link to follow him. "I'll finish up later. This is much more important."

"Hold on, where are we going, exactly?" Link pressed as he fell in-stride beside Symin. He didn't want to get side-tracked. Especially not with Bolson on the prowl. "I'm actually kind of in a hurry — I need to get to the Hateno Lab."

Symin merely gave him a smile. "Hm, it seems fate had us meet. Don't worry about it. I work there. I'll give you the grand tour myself. Let's go!"

Link couldn't believe his luck for once. A hopeful smile on his face, he kept pace with Symin as they hustled along the thoroughfare. All the while, Link maintained his vigilance, scouring the crowds for any sign of Maz Koshia or Bolson and the man with the pitchfork. So far, the coast was clear. But where had Maz Koshia gone to?

They had just passed the inn when Link took one final scan of the township. Still no sign of Bolson. A tad more at ease, Link brought his eyes around, only to brush his gaze upon a familiar skeletal figure tucked behind a tree in a distant backyard. The figure beckoned to him with a wave.

Link skidded to a halt, his hand finding Symin's sleeve and pulling him to a stop as well.

"Something wrong?" Symin wondered.

Link paused, his mind suddenly racing. He hadn't thought this far ahead. What would Symin think of Maz Koshia? Link already knew what Bolson and his employees thought of him. Link was afraid he might squander his luck and send Symin screaming, but figured he had to let him know sooner or later. There weren't many places to hide someone like Maz Koshia.

Link's eyes flew from the monk and to Symin, who blinked in anticipation. Fidgeting, Link lowered his voice, saying, "Erm, Symin? D-don't panic, okay? I'm... traveling with a monk."

"A monk?" Symin repeated, eyes clouding over slightly. "What do you…?"

Link pointed over Symin's shoulder. Symin turned his head, a brow cocked. The pair watched Maz Koshia step out from the shade of the tree before offering them a low, polite bow.

Symin dropped his basket of his own accord this time. The last of the eggs shattered, but, much to Link's awe, Symin couldn't have cared any less. He merely gawped at Maz Koshia for a few solid seconds before a wild smile snuck across his lips. His eyes shone with stars.

"I'm glad I got out of bed today," Symin squeaked. Unblinking, he turned to Link, still grinning. He waved a hand, both to Link and Maz Koshia. "Follow me! No time to waste!"

Unfortunately, while they had stopped to behold the monk, the Bolson Construction Company had pushed their way through the crowd and spotted them. Link's ears perked when he heard a voice shout, "There he is!"

Link's head flew in their direction. His blood flushed with panic upon seeing the group stampeding towards them. He was about to take off sprinting down the path, but Symin remained in his place, more than a little curious about what was going on. Link, hesitant to linger, half-hid himself behind Symin's shoulder, desperate to make himself scarce.

The four men came to a rough stop before Link and Symin, sweat glistening on each of their faces. Karson and Hudson huddled close to their boss, eyes flicking about, while Thadd, the man in the farmer's hat, gave Link a troubled look from head to toe.

Meanwhile, Bolson threw his head left and right, his wide eyes scouring the area like a crazed hawk. After coming up short on his target, he whirled on Link, making him jump when he cried, "You! Squatter! Where is it?! That mummy!?"

Symin shot Link a split-second glance out of the corner of his eye. Link caught it, though he wasn't sure how much panic he could convey through his goggles. Already sweating, Link gulped and turned back to Bolson, mustering out, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Bolson stabbed a finger at him, spitting, "Don't you lie to me! Where is it?! Where are you hiding it?! And what does it plan on doing with us?!"

Before Link could utter any more half-baked lies, Symin stepped in, shaking his head. "Excuse me… a _mummy?"_ he repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"It was with _him!"_ Bolson shoved another finger at Link. "In the old house outside of town! And it was huge! With no eyes, l-like a skeleton — "

Bolson cut himself off when he noticed the looks Symin and Thadd were giving him. They both looked upon him as though something with rather long legs were crawling up his face.

" _Don't look at me like that! I'm NOT crazy!"_ Bolson blurted. "I KNOW what I saw!"

Finally, Symin scoffed, "Well, as a man of science, I can tell you that mummies don't just get up and walk, Bolson. And even if they did, they wouldn't be wandering around Hateno."

Bolson froze, absolutely disgusted with Symin. His brows skyrocketed, his pupils shrinking. He slapped a hand against his chest before gesturing to his employees, crying, "But I saw it! We ALL did!" Karson and Hudson both gave hurried nods.

Symin turned to Thadd, who was tapping his foot. "Did you see anything, Thadd?" Symin asked. The man pursed his lips and shook his head, a frustrated huff escaping his nostrils. Bolson fumed at that, his ears turning pink.

Symin returned his attention to him. He laid a hand on Bolson's shoulder, making the man twitch. Symin cooed at him, "Don't be ridiculous, Bolson. You all work too hard. Really, you ought to take a vacation. I hear Lurelin Village is lovely this time of year." Bolson choked on Symin's dismissal. He then concluded, picking up his basket, "Anyway, my friend and I must be going. Have a nice day!"

Turning to leave, he motioned for Link to follow. He left Bolson and his employees shell-shocked, gaping after them. Before Link could fall in-step behind Symin, he offered a feeble wave to the men before him.

"Bye," he whimpered.

He truly felt bad for making them seem so foolish, but all the same, the reaction Maz Koshia had gotten out of them was nothing short of incredible. He didn't realize how much he needed something like that. It was… cathartic.

As Link turned his back on them, the group erupted in an uproar of anger and defiance. But Link didn't dare look back. It was all he could do to keep his smile straight as Thadd shepherded the Bolson Construction Company back into town.

Well, that had gone better than expected.

Keeping a slow pace to deter suspicion, Link and Symin left the inn behind and wove their way through the outskirts of Hateno along the slowly-inclining path. The houses gradually grew few and far between, replaced instead with a terraced tapestry of fields lined with scarecrows. A scattering of people lingered about, but those that were nearby were preoccupied with chores and other errands. They didn't give them a passing glance.

Once Link was sure they were out of earshot of Bolson, he muttered, "Thanks, Symin. I really owe you one."

Symin shrugged it off with a smile. "My pleasure. Those three are a handful, but they're harmless, trust me. I take it Bolson and his boys caught a glimpse of your monk, yes?"

Link nodded. "He scared them half to death back there."

Symin chuckled. "Well, it's a sight they'll never forget, that's for sure. I know _I'll_ never forget seeing him myself." He leaned back, his eyes glittering as he stared into the sky. "Imagine it! A _real-life_ Sheikah monk! If I could have just five minutes with him, I'd be forever in yourdebt. I have so many questions I don't even know where to start!"

As if on cue, a deep voice joined the conversation. "I would be happy to indulge you."

Link and Symin both turned toward the voice's source. He disappeared and reappeared between the staggered apple trees lining the road, like a firefly flickering in the night. The monk strode casually, his long hair breezing behind him, his fingers clasped. Upon seeing him in his towering, ancient majesty, Symin stopped in the middle of the path, awe-stricken.

"Oh, wow," he whispered.

Link and Maz Koshia followed his suit, stopping. As the monk gave Symin another bow of greeting, Link couldn't help but find himself smiling at Symin's reverence towards him. It only served to remind him of just how astronomical it was that Maz Koshia was even there. Walking. Breathing. A figure from an era far beyond either of their existences; a wellspring of history, guidance, and intelligence standing before them. It was extraordinary.

Link almost felt as though he had to make introductions. He strode a few steps towards the monk and extended an arm, presenting him to Symin. "Symin, this is Maz Koshia."

Symin hurried over, returning the monk's bow with a deep bow of his own. "I am humbled to be in your presence, Maz Koshia," he breathed.

Maz Koshia chuckled softly. "As am I to you." Symin's spine visibly shuddered as Maz Koshia spoke. He listened intently as the monk continued, "It pleases me to see our heritage alive and thriving in these latter days." Symin then gave a sharp gasp when the monk reached out and laid a bony hand on his shoulder, continuing warmly, "Thank you ever so much for keeping the flame of the Sheikah burning bright, Symin."

When Symin straightened, his eyes were swimming behind his glasses. His breath shook as he replied, "Y-y-you're welcome." He lowered his gaze, his brows lowering. "S-sometimes… I don't even know if this is all worth it, but… hearing that… from _you…!"_ He gave another bow. "Thank you."

"You are most certainly welcome," the monk replied. He gestured to the path zigzagging up the steep hill before them. "Now, I will be happy to answer any questions you may have as we walk. In exchange, however, I require your help."

Symin's eyes bulged. "A-anything you need! Just name it!"

"Thank you," Maz Koshia chuckled, smiling. "I understand you work at the lab. I will need to borrow some of your equipment, if possible." He turned to Link, choosing his words carefully. "Link and I have journeyed here to… run a few examinations. Would that be all right, Symin?"

Link's stomach chilled at Maz Koshia's explanation. Link was eager to have some tests run, to finally find some answers, but even so, he dreaded what they'd find. Still, it needed to be done. He couldn't bear to be in the dark about his own fate any longer. Link merely swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and gave a small nod.

Symin's eyes hit Link, then. They darted up and down his body, almost as if he were scanning him, dissecting him. Link shifted under his sharpened gaze. Not only had it sharpened, but it had also… darkened. As if he knew something. Something _wrong._ Something that made his jaw grind.

Ultimately, Symin complied reverently with, "Of course. We have everything you need."

"Excellent. Shall we?" Maz Koshia said brightly.

"Right this way," Symin said with a smile.

Now with more fervent purpose in their steps, the trio set off up the hill. Link and Symin remained on the path while Maz Koshia followed from the cover of the trees. As they walked, the two Sheikah filled the morning air with excited chatter — Symin rapid-fired questions off to Maz Koshia, the monk responding with his answer. In the roughly twenty-minute hike to the lab, they discussed everything from photography to horticulture to Guardian operating systems and everything in-between.

It was all a bit too much for Link to process. He followed as much as he could, but for some reason, his ears were buzzing and his breath was shallow. His stomach churned with nausea as he walked, his hand gripping the Sheikah Slate in a death-grip. He didn't notice it for the majority of the walk.

When the final house on the hillside had fallen behind them, Maz Koshia emerged from the trees and joined them on the path. The monk had noticed Link's silence; he stepped in-stride beside him, laying a gentle palm on his shoulder. Link jumped slightly, glancing up to him. He caught a glimpse beneath the monk's veil — a small smile upturned the corner of his mouth, reassuring him. Somehow, Link's hold on the Slate loosened.

Meanwhile, Symin took no notice. Like Link, he shrank in the monk's imposing height, but nevertheless feasted his eyes on every square inch of him that he could, as if burning him into his memory. His weathered skin, his silvery hair, his veil, his chunky gold necklace. Symin just couldn't get enough. Even through his inspection of the monk, he never stopped talking — and Maz Koshia never stopped answering.

Before long, the tower Link had seen from the village came into view at the crest of the hill. It had once been only a windmill, but since transformed into a sentinel for the strange amalgamation of technology and building it was attached to. A ramshackle staircase spiraled around its tower, trailing up from the roof of a house. The roof sagged beneath the weight of a tremendous telescope of Sheikah design, aimed inland. A Sheikah sigil painted on the front door greeted them, and a bizarre, bulbous stone structure stood nearby, also of Sheikah design. Next to it, a sign read in angry red letters: ANCIENT FURNACE. VERY HOT! DON'T TOUCH! However, this furnace was cold, its receptacle empty.

Link blinked at the sight of the lab. It wasn't entirely what he was expecting, but then again, he wasn't sure what form Sheikah technology would take next. It was as fascinating as it was confusing. He ran his eyes over the lab, wondering what awaited him inside. Surely, there had to be other people there? Symin had mentioned a _we._

Maz Koshia strode with determination as they approached, eager to go in, but Symin slowed them down when they reached the doorstep. He held up a hand, proposing, "Wait here a moment. I need to… er… prepare her." Doing as he said, Maz Koshia and Link stood in their places as Symin opened the door and slipped inside a few steps, keeping the door ajar.

"Purah!?" he shouted, his voice a tad on the unsure side. "I'm — I'm back!"

Symin partially blocked the view into the lab, obscuring the owner of the voice that responded to him. It was young, sweet, full of energy. It almost reminded Link of little Cottla back in Kakariko. The girl's response was accompanied by the clattering of pots and pans.

"Already?! Great! I've got a big surprise!" the girl, who Link registered as Purah, cried.

A grin spread across Symin's face. He turned his head back slightly to glance at Link and Maz Koshia on his doorstep. "Er… I do too!" he replied.

"Ooh, I bet _my_ surprise is _bigger!"_ she cheered.

Symin bit back a giggle. "We'll, uh, see about that. Y-you go first."

"Okay, well, remember that uber fancy coffee we tried at the inn?"

"I remember," Symin replied. "It helped me through a few projects."

"Great stuff, right?! They got it all the way from Faron! Well, see, I ground and drank the last of the samples they gave us — Sorry! Had to! — so I had more special ordered. It _finally_ came just barely! By Rito postman, no less." She giggled, pausing. Link thought he heard a bag of something rattle. "Mmm, smell that! Honestly, what could be better than that, Symin? Huh? _Huh?"_

Symin gestured for Link and Maz Koshia to enter the lab, stepping aside for them. The two of them exchanged a brief glance before stepping inside, the monk allowing Link to enter first. Again, Maz Koshia had to duck to clear the doorway.

They entered a rather cramped, single-room laboratory. The room itself was spacious, but the small army of bookshelves and tables crowding the area, along with the low candlelight, seemed to make the walls shrink in. An ocean of papers littered the floor, each one crammed with drawings and writing. On a small raised stage to their left, a familiar pedestal jutted — identical to the one Link had plucked the Sheikah Slate from. Above the pedestal, a thick stone stalactite dripped from the ceiling. Hanging above the clutter were the warm and toasted aromas of candle wax and coffee beans.

Link took a quick survey of the room before his eyes were drawn to the large table at the lab's heart, where a girl waited.

She had to be Purah. She couldn't have been more than six years old. Like Symin, she too was a Sheikah, dressed in an oversized cream-colored coat she had fashioned into a skirt to fit her tiny frame. Her snowy hair sat atop her head in a decorative bow secured with chopsticks and a pair of goggles. Link squinted at them, noting how similar they were to his own. Practically… identical. Amber in color. Turquoise lenses. They appeared to be only an accessory, as she wore a pair of large, cherry-red, rounded glasses.

What struck Link the most about her were her eyes, however. The other Sheikah he had met had all had dark eyes. But hers were anything but. They were a striking shade of scarlet.

When they walked in, they found Purah stood on a stool to reach a mortar and pestle on the tabletop. She was about to set down the burlap bag filled with glittery black coffee beans when she turned to face Link, Symin, and Maz Koshia.

As her eyes spread wide to take them in, Symin beamed, "How about a champion and a monk?"

"Hello," Link and Maz Koshia said in unison.

That was when the bag of beans hit the floor.

* * *

 **Dang, what a fun chapter! I really enjoyed exploring the sections with the Bolson and the construction company. I have nothing against these guys, but I just wish they would get off my darn lawn! Consider this a bit of payback for being squatters in your own right! XD**

 **Needless to say, I had too much fun with Maz Koshia in this one. It was great exploring more of his personality and his relationships. He's an awesome character and I can't wait to get to know him more. I hope you enjoyed him as much as I did!**

 **As for Purah and Symin... ooh, they'll be another fun duo to explore. I hope you enjoy their roles in this story. They will play a big part in the chapters to come.**

 **Anyway, let me know what you thought! Any questions? Concerns? Critiques? I love to hear your feedback!**

 **Thank you SO MUCH for reading and sticking through with this story even through my crazy life.**

 **I'll see you next chapter (and it won't take 4 months this time!)!**


	15. Patient Zero

**Surprise! It's me again! Hurray!**

 **Okay, I am SO excited to present this chapter.** **This one is a whirlwind and it is MEATY. Don't say I didn't warn you! Link is about to take his new friends on a RIDE. And, may I add, you as well! I hope you enjoy it!**

 **I had so much fun writing this one, and exploring its twists and turns was enlightening for both me and the characters. I hope it is for you, too. :)**

 **Enjoy, friends!**

* * *

Before Link had time to prepare himself for what was coming, Purah gave a shrill squeal.

Link, Maz Koshia, and Symin all jumped. For a moment, Link's heart sank. Already, a wave of guilt was washing over him for scaring yet another little girl — and she hadn't even seen his face yet. But in the split-second he had to analyze her wide-eyed, sparkling expression, a novel realization hit him: Purah's squeal wasn't one of fear. It was of _pure_ , _unadulterated_ _glee._

Without warning, Purah flew from her stool and bounded towards them. Even with her tiny legs, she crossed the distance in a few seconds flat, crowding before Link's boots. He backed away a little out of habit; he wasn't used to such a warm — if not a bit chaotic — reception.

But Purah didn't seem to notice, too engrossed in her delight. "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh," she gasped, flapping her hands as she beheld Link and Maz Koshia. "Tell me this isn't happening, Symin! Tell me _these two_ aren't here right now!"

Symin grinned. "Oh, it's happening. I told myself the same thing."

Another squeal from Purah. "Eeeeeee! This is the best day of my life! Forget that stupid coffee!" She threw her attention upon Link, crying, "Aren't _you_ a sight for sore eyes?! C'mere, Linky!"

"Linky — ?!"Link repeated, his eyes bulging.

He didn't get the chance to finish his thought before Purah jumped up and grabbed two fistfuls of his tunic, tugging him to his knees. He blinked rapidly, agape as she proceeded to lay her hands all over him — caressing his tunic and hood, smoothing his scarf and poking at his goggles. Interestingly, her eyes lingered on the Sheikah Slate on his hip for a fraction of a second before she continued to drink in every inch of him she could.

"Here you are after all these years! I can't believe it! Kept us waiting long enough, huh?" she said brightly.

"Er — " Link stammered.

"I'm kidding, silly!" she giggled. "You took all the time you needed to heal up, I can understand that." She continued to scour him while he merely knelt, stunned. "Man, I've missed this color!" she moaned, admiring his tunic. "Nobody can get it this particular shade nowadays. Oh, it's _beautiful."_ She then turned her gaze upon his goggles, rolling her eyes. "So THAT'S where these were! Impa told me she packed all of them! That sneaky old thing!"

Link could only stare. Their meeting was rushing by in such a whirlwind that he couldn't keep up, and nothing she was saying made any sense. Kept her waiting? What did she mean, _nowadays?_ And his goggles were… hers? Not only that, but Purah spoke much more eloquently than the average child; the notion agitated Link's brain, but he couldn't put a finger on why that was strange as he struggled to process her barrage of comments.

Somehow he managed to get a few words out at the mention of Impa, stammering, "Wait, you know Impa?!"

Purah's eyes twinkled. "'Course I do! She's my little sister! Duh!"

Link took his chin back, his curiosity skyrocketing. How was that even possible?! But before he could form the question, Purah abruptly changed the subject, her gaze flicking to Maz Koshia. He stood above them, grinning from ear to ear.

Purah held a finger up to Link, saying, "Hold that thought, k?" before she scampered over to the monk.

And just like that, she was gone, as quickly as she came on. Link froze where he knelt, his brain grinding with confusion. What had just happened?! He glanced over to Symin, stood nearby with his arms folded. He shook his head, a calm smile spreading his lips.

Symin seemed to read Link's flabbergasted thoughts, murmuring to him, "Just… give her a minute. This is the most excitement she's had in decades."

Link blinked, repeating, _"Decades?"_

He couldn't believe his ears. Purah couldn't have been more than six years old; she hadn't been _alive_ for even _one_ decade. Had Symin misspoke? Again, the thought lingered in Link's mind, but it was quickly pushed aside as he and Symin watched the girl greet Maz Koshia.

The monk had descended to his knees as well, and held out a finger to receive Purah's small hands in a handshake. She was beaming at him, devouring his presence with her eyes as well.

She gave a shaky gasp at his touch. "Oh, wow…! I can't tell you what an honor this is!" she trilled. "A Sheikah monk — _in the_ _flesh!_ In _my_ lab! Oh, I'm so buzzing! I have so much to ask you, so much I want to learn. This is… this is…!" she drifted off, so starstruck she could barely find her words.

"...An opportunity of a lifetime?" Maz Koshia finished. Purah nodded briskly, her hair bouncing. He chuckled, continuing, "It is for me as well. Like Symin, you have lovingly carried the torch of the Sheikah legacy, and I commend your efforts, Purah." She almost melted at his mention of her name. He pressed his palms together prayerfully, offering her a grateful bow.

She returned it, a bout of girlish giggling bubbling out of her. "Aahhh! I can't believe this is really happening! This — is — _amazing!"_ Clapping her hands together, she looked to Symin, adding, "Where on earth did you find these two?!"

Symin gestured to Link, smiling. "Link and I, er, ran into each other in the market. They were traveling together." Holding up his basket, he sheepishly added, "Didn't get a chance to finish the shopping, unfortunately."

Purah waved it off. "Pfft! Who cares? We've got these two instead! Talk about a package deal." She then gave Link a wink, quipping, "So, it appears that hundred-year nap of yours made you a klutz, huh? Not as quick on your feet as you used to be?" With another giggle, she removed a miniature notebook from her coat and scribbled something down in it. "Interesting…"

Though Link's initial confusion still hung over him, her words suddenly snapped him out of his stupor. Something wasn't adding up. He had to know what was going on before his brain was twisted into any more knots.

Straightening, he blurted out, "Hold on, back up…" It went quiet for a moment as everyone focused on him. He held up his hands and gathered his thoughts. "You drink coffee, you know my name, you know where I've been… you're Impa's _older_ _sister?_ H-how? I'm… very confused," he sighed, shoulders slumping.

There was a brief pause. Finally, Purah pinched her eyes shut and she gave her head a quick shake. "Oh, geez, where are my manners? Here you are, totally amnesiac, and I'm talking your ear off. Typical me."

Link gave another start where he knelt. She knew that, too? What else did she know about him? He was almost afraid to find out.

But thankfully for his spiraling confusion, Purah came to herself. She adjusted her glasses, saying, "Sorry, I just got so excited that you two rolled through my door. Let's start from the top, shall we?" She clicked her heels together and struck a dainty pose. "Ahem. Welcome! I'm Purah, Director of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab. You, sir, are Link, Hylian Champion. That much you should know, yeah?"

Link gave a weak nod. "Y-yeah."

"Love it!" Purah then looked to Maz Koshia, wondering, "And you are?"

The monk made himself comfortable on the floor. He had a feeling this might take some time. "I am Maz Koshia, Director."

She blushed. "Pleased to meet you. And you both know Symin, my assistant, so that clears that up." Symin gave a nod of agreement. Purah continued, proposing to Link, "How we doin' so far? You lost yet?"

Link cocked his head, already breathless. He still couldn't fathom how she knew so much about him, but he figured she would explain it. No, he _prayed_ she would. He might end up with a headache otherwise.

"Not… so far, but, did you just say _Director?"_

She gave a little hop and made a gesture with her hands: curling her middle and ring fingers down and extending the others in a sort of tri-horned symbol. "Check it, baby!" she cheered. "You're looking at the Director of this fine establishment and the world's foremost authority on ancient relics. Not to toot my own horn, but with over a century of studying under my belt, there's not a person alive who knows more than me." She pursed her lips, her eyes drifting to Maz Koshia. "Well, apart from him, of course."

Maz Koshia chuckled.

Sadly, Purah's elaborating wasn't helping. Link was more confused than ever; her words just weren't possible. His gaze wandered to the books spilling off of the shelves before he ran his eyes from Purah's topknot down to her feet.

"But… you're so young," he said, before quickly adding, "I-I mean, no offense!"

Purah bobbed her head knowingly. "None taken, but looks can be deceiving. You of all people should know that, Link."

The glint in her eye as she said that… it made Link's heart flutter. There was an intelligence in her gaze that exceeded his own comprehension. Just how much did this little girl know? He would soon find out.

"...How do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity, rather than his confusion, goading his questions.

She began, gesturing to herself, "Well, I may not look it, but I've lived a long, long time, just like you. We used to work together once upon a time, alongside Princess Zelda."

Link straightened, his heart skipping a beat for some reason. "Y-you knew Zelda?"

Purah smiled, her mind taking her back. "We knew each other, yes. She and I were study buddies, and _you_ were always on guard nearby, though, I doubt you remember it."

A glimmer of light had briefly shone in Link's mind at the mention of Zelda, but it quickly faded. Try as he might, he couldn't scrounge up any memory of Purah's stories, nor any faces to go with them. But he wanted to — so, desperately he wanted to. It almost hurt.

His shoulders sagged. "No… not at all," he mourned.

Purah shrugged, her expression sombering slightly. "Figured as much. All the same, me, you, the Princess, my sister Impa, and a few others were some of the lucky few to survive The Great Calamity." Link choked at that. She continued, "I was in my early twenties back then. In fact, if we stopped to crunch the numbers, you'd find that I'm even older than or take a hundred years."

Looking to lighten the mood a bit, she struck another pose, musing, "Look pretty good for my age, don't I?"

Symin's palm hit his forehead with an audible _slap_. "First time you've used that one…" he groaned.

Purah winked and stuck her tongue out at him. She returned her gaze to Link when he proceeded to stutter, "But th-that's impossible! You're… a child! How could you even...?!"

She shrugged again. "Well, you've seen Impa, right? She's a few years younger than I am. Heck, even look at Maz Koshia, here." Link did so, the monk nodding to him. "It's not _impossible_ to live this long, it's just a little… difficult on the body to do naturally. Like Impa did. _Some_ of us had a little help. Yourself included."

Strange. Link had never thought about it like that. It rarely crossed his mind, but he _was_ over a century old. It suddenly made him feel more wise. Not as wise as Purah or Maz Koshia, but wise nonetheless.

Marveling at the reality of her words, he mused, "I suppose that makes sense. But how did _you_ do it? I had the Shrine, but you…?"

Maz Koshia leaned forward and tapped his chin. "Let me guess… An experiment that didn't quite go to plan?"

Purah fired a finger at him. "Snap, you're good! Yeah, I was getting on in years and was more than determined to live to see you come back to us," she said, gesturing to Link. "I made a promise that I would finish what we started. I wasn't sure when you'd wake up, and I wasn't getting any younger, so I did some tinkering with an experimental Rune in hopes of turning back the clock a bit."

Link wasn't entirely sure what a Rune was, but he still listened intently. Maz Koshia did as well, nodding slowly.

Purah continued, "Originally, I shaved off a few decades, but my Rune ended up working _too_ well." She sighed. "In a matter of weeks, I'd de-aged more than a century. It was actually kind of impressive, but still, I'm stuck looking like this. Thankfully it stopped before Symin had to change any diapers."

"Thank Hylia for that," Symin mumbled. "I still would have done it for you, though."

She smiled at him. "Yes, you would have. That's why you're my assistant. I promise I'll give you a raise if we ever get some funding around here."

They both gave wistful sighs, glancing at the state of the place. In that moment, a shelf on the wall, burdened with books, gave up and dumped a mountain of research onto the floor. They all stared for a moment at it, conversation faltering.

"Anywaaaay!" Purah interjected, making them all jump. She looked to Link, placing her hands on her hips. "I think I've run my mouth long enough. If you have more questions, feel free to ask me later, but let's get down to brass tacks, yeah? I've been waiting for you for a very long time, Link." She added with a wink, "You're fashionably late, but I'll take it. Welcome back — officially."

He gave a small shrug. "Sorry it took me so long. But I'm here now, and… I..." His words faltered as he remembered the reason he had come. He snuck a glance to Maz Koshia, who stiffened. The monk urged him on with a nod. Pausing, Link finally managed to say, "I need your help, Purah."

She gestured around the lab. "Well, we've got some of the most advanced tech this side of the apocalypse. I'll bet you're raring to dive into Hyrule Castle and give Ganon the ol' one-two, right? That's my Linky!"

A shiver bolted down Link's spine at the mention of Ganon's name. His hands involuntarily balled up into fists as he pictured his bones glowing beneath his skin. "More than ever," he said lowly. "You have no idea. But there's something I need to take care of, first…"

"That's what we're here for. Anything you need, we can help with. Just say the word," Purah stated.

Her words were reassuring, but all the same, Link wasn't eager to put them to use. And Symin's following question didn't help matters.

Symin shifted where he stood, proposing, "Examinations, wasn't it?"

Link's stomach rolled at the mention of it, and he winced. He didn't respond.

Meanwhile, Purah's brows rose. "Examinations? What for? Are you sick, or something?"

Link wasn't sure how to phrase it without scaring them. As much as Purah knew about him, he highly doubted that she knew about _this._ As his heart began to race, he couldn't quite think up what to say before Maz Koshia laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Link, flinching, looked to the monk as he gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Carefully, he eased the two of them to their feet.

The monk said to Symin and Purah, "Perhaps you should see for yourselves. I think you ought to be seated for this." He looked to the table at the heart of the lab, where a few stools sat.

Symin and Purah exchanged a glance, both falling quiet. In silence, Maz Koshia led them all to the table, sitting Link down in one stool while Purah climbed onto another across from him. Symin lingered near her while Maz Koshia stood beside Link, a hand still on his shoulder. For a few stiff moments, nobody moved or said anything. Link found himself so horridly nauseous that he merely tangled his fingers into his trousers.

Finally, Maz Koshia said reverently, "Link, you will need to remove your hood and goggles for the examination."

Link gave a robotic nod. It was now or never. He slowly loosened his grip, reaching toward his disguise.

As he did so, Purah squinted suspiciously. "What's this about, guys?"

Link paused. He glanced up at Maz Koshia, who hung his head, unsure of how to reply. The monk murmured a weak, "Erm…"

"...You won't like what you see," Link eventually said.

A light caught Purah's scarlet eyes, and she smirked almost invisibly. She leaned towards Link. "Try me."

He blinked at her confidence. Not even Maz Koshia had reacted like this before Link revealed his face to him. He just prayed that bravery would last. Though his every waking thought screamed at him not to do it, Link pushed back his hood and slipped his scarf and goggles off of his face.

The inevitable gasp from Purah and Symin reared itself, the sound once again stabbing at Link's resolve. His face twitched at their gaping expressions. He knew he would never get used to the fear he instilled in others at their first face-to-face meeting.

But to his utter disbelief, that was all that Purah and Symin's shock came to: a small gasp. Nothing more.

They both leaned towards him — not away from him — their eyes shimmering with fascination. Link leaned back, amazed by their unorthodox reaction.

"Oh my god, he's even better in person…!" Purah gasped. Without breaking eye contact with Link, she snapped her fingers and urged Symin, "Take notes. Take all the notes."

Symin scooped up a notepad and pencil from the table, turning to a fresh page. "Yes, ma'am." He began running his eyes along Link's face with verve, jotting down every detail.

Link suddenly found himself struggling beneath the tremendous weight of his own bafflement. He'd had quite a variety of reactions to his appearance, but nothing like this. Purah and Symin beheld him with the tenacity of scholars, as though he were a new research project to dive into — not a monster to be feared. The reality of that was world-shattering for him.

He had gone so numb he'd forgotten to breathe. "You're not afraid...?" he gasped.

"Why would we be?" Symin replied, his eyes alight. "You're quite the specimen, Link!"

"B-but I've scared everyoneI've met so far. _Everyone,"_ Link said, blinking rapidly. "Why not you? I don't understand."

Purah reached into her pocket and slipped something out of it. She gave Link a tender smile and held whatever-it-was out to him.

"Well… we _did_ have a bit of a heads-up," she said.

Link stared at what she held. It was an open envelope. A few sheets of paper peeked out of it. Link took it and removed the papers, smoothing them out and running his eyes over a handwritten letter.

 _My dearest Purah,_

 _I hope you are well._

 _I am writing you to deliver a message. The day we have anticipated for one hundred years has come. Link has risen from the Shrine of Resurrection and is on his way to you. He has been with us for the past few weeks. As you predicted, he does not remember his past. I have given him some mementos to jog his memory, but perhaps you can help him further?_

 _A word of warning: that foul beast Calamity Ganon has changed him. Please see the attached sketch. A friend of ours made it while he was staying with us. Please do not be alarmed when you see Link's face. He means you no harm. He is still our knight, no matter what he looks like._

 _I hope you can examine him and possibly purge this darkness from him. Please let me know your findings._

 _May the Goddess smile upon you all._

 _All my love,_

 _Impa_

A familiar warmth filled Link's chest as he read Impa's letter. Even as far away as she was, she was still looking after him. When he finished reading, he immediately snatched up the other page and came to face a collection of rough charcoal sketches of himself. They captured him in his corrupted state from a variety of angles, showcasing his dark skin, his horns, his third eye. During his stay in Kakariko, he hadn't noticed that he was the object of someone's creativity; he briefly wondered who had been sketching him.

"The drawings didn't do you any justice," Purah remarked, pulling Link's gaze to her. The intrigue in her eyes would have been flattering if Link wasn't so rattled. "I've never seen anything like this — ever. It's _insane."_

A weathered hand slid the sketches out from Link's grasp. "Likewise," Maz Koshia concurred, his voice grim as he viewed the drawings. Everyone turned to their gazes on him. "In all my years, I have seen Ganon enact countless wicked combinations, each more vile than the last. But this..." he drifted off, eyeing Link, who swallowed anxiously. "This is an entirely new breed of cunning. And I intend to know how and why this was wrought."

"Us, too," Purah agreed, standing on her stool. "It was almost painful playing dumb back there. We've been eager to start analyzing you since we got that letter. I think we ought to get started right away."

"I couldn't agree more," the monk replied. "Symin mentioned you had the necessary tools?"

"We're not as equipped as The Shrine of Resurrection, but we're the next best thing," Purah replied, nodding alongside her assistant. "We ran full physicals during my little experiment, so we have everything we need."

"Excellent." Maz Koshia folded up the sketches and turned to Link. "So, what say you, hero?"

Link fidgeted as they went back and forth. The familiar warmth from Impa's letter smoldered inside of him, transforming into a sickening heat. It only worsened when they all looked at him expectantly. Part of him wanted nothing more than to submit to their examinations, but the other was petrified at the notion. He wasn't sure he could handle whatever they found.

But he had to know. He had been in the dark long enough.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Link pinched his eyes shut and spat out, "Let's do it. Right now. I-I can't wait any longer."

His companions didn't need telling twice. "I'll grab the venipuncture kit," Purah said quickly, leaping off her stool.

"Where do you keep your surgical tools?" Maz Koshia asked, wandering to a cabinet.

" _Oh, god,"_ Link groaned under his breath. He swallowed a bitter mouthful of dread. What had he just agreed to?

But just as Purah and Maz Koshia were mid-stride, Symin stopped them. "Wait, could we at least treat you to breakfast first?"

Purah turned on him, her brows scrunched together. "With what food?"

Symin winced. "Oh, right…"

Maz Koshia shook his head, dismissing, "It would probably be best if Link was tested on an empty stomach. The less interference the better. But we would be honored to dine with you after the examination, Symin."

"Of course."

"Check it, here we go!" Purah announced with a clap of her hands. "First things first, people, we need to get the power back on. I can't believe we've let it go for this long… That Guidance Stone won't work without it." She turned to her assistant, requesting, "Symin! Can I trust you to get the furnace lit?"

Symin hesitated. After a moment of thought, he eventually strode to the raised stage and cautiously took up a wooden torch that lay beside it. "I'll try not to burn myself this time," he muttered.

"Great! Godspeed! And make it snappy!" Purah cheered. As Symin darted out the front door, she then turned to Link. "Okay, this is going to sound weird coming from me, but I'll need you to take off your clothes, Link."

His cheeks flushed. "E-excuse me?!"

Purah's face turned a subtle rosy-red as she repeated herself. "You heard me. Take your clothes off. And don't be so modest — I _have_ seen you naked, before. I was the one who put you into the shorts you woke up in, after all."

Link stiffened up, another swell of heat burning through him. He didn't know what to make of that information. He suddenly felt exposed, even fully clothed as he was.

Noting his hesitation, Maz Koshia offered him a sympathetic shrug. "Your shorts should be fine to keep on if you'd like. Hurry, now. We mustn't delay."

Link ceded to their demands, albeit against his sense of decency — particularly in Purah's presence. Still, he supposed that she was his elder, despite her appearance. That would take some getting used to. Even so, he kept his head down to hide his maroon cheeks as he slipped off his boots and unbuckled his pants.

While he stripped, Purah and Maz Koshia dug through the lab, unearthing a variety of equipment and bringing everything to the center table. Purah procured what looked to be a spyglass attached to a segmented robotic arm, all mounted on a solid stone base. She set out a box rattling with thin glass vials beside it. Meanwhile, Maz Koshia filled a tray with a multitude of stone hand tools; some sharp, some blunt, along with a few pairs of forceps, bandages, a rag, and a glass bottle sloshing with a coppery fluid.

Goosebumps erupted on Link's skin as he watched them lay everything out on the table. He stood stiffly, now totally naked apart from his shorts. All of his clothes and belongings sat nearby, except for the Sheikah Slate, which he clung to. It gave him some semblance of comfort as he awaited his examination.

Once the operating table was set, Maz Koshia and Purah turned to Link. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at his raw, corrupted splendor, able to perfectly view his subtly-glowing skeleton. Almost as if in a trance, Maz Koshia approached him, knelt, and reached out, laying his fingertips on Link's clavicle before running them down his sternum. Link shuddered. It was like being caressed by sandpaper.

"Extraordinary..." the monk marveled in a whisper. "Absolutely extraordinary..."

Link's lips firmed into a line, his gaze falling to his feet. "If you say so," he murmured.

Without another word, Maz Koshia led Link to a stool and sat him down. The monk pulled up another stool and sat across from him, continuing his reverent study of his body while he scribbled down his thoughts in a spare journal. Link snuck a glance at his writing: all in ancient Sheikah, geometric dots and spirals. Though he could read it regardless, he chose not to.

Purah hovered nearby, running her eyes over Link in the meantime. She lit up when the monk, still studying Link, requested, "Prep him for a blood sample, please, Purah? Draw around three vials."

"Yes, sir!" Purah trilled, elated to be assisting him. She proceeded to use a stack of books as a footstool to hoist herself onto the table. Once there, she positioned her odd venipuncture machine near Link and plugged three vials into the ports on its side. She smiled at him, posing, "Arm, please."

He followed her orders and extended it on the table. Leaning in close, she tapped at the crook of his arm and moved the spyglass over it, peering through the lens. Satisfied, she then powered on the device. Looking through the barrel one final time, she pressed it firmly onto Link's arm.

"Hold still, okay?" she instructed. "This'll give you a bit of a poke."

"All right," Link wheezed.

He was about to watch the machine work on him when he felt rough fingers take his jaw and drag his head forward. Link flinched, but didn't fight Maz Koshia's grip. Like a doctor examining his patient, Maz Koshia gently turned Link's head in all directions, running his eyes along the jagged line of his incisors, to the amber glow of his eyes, before inspecting his short horns. He added more to his notes.

Link nearly jumped out of his chair when the venipuncture device suddenly jabbed a needle into his skin. "Ow!" he cried, jerking his head over.

"Told ya," Purah shrugged. "Give it a sec."

Maz Koshia paused and joined Link and Purah in watching the machine siphon blood out of Link. It wasn't the color or consistency any of them were expecting. It was jet black, thick like paint, and dotted with brightly-glowing magenta flecks. It seemed to boil as it slowly filled up each vial.

They could only stare, faces frozen, for a few seconds before Maz Koshia brought them out of their dazes. "Let's get those analyzed," he said swiftly, scrawling several lines into his notes. "As soon as the Guidance Stone is online, plug them in and get them working."

Purah's cheeks had drained slightly. She removed the vials from the machine and set them carefully in a small tray. "You got it. Symin should be back any minute."

As she set off toward the raised stage nearby to get her tools ready, the monk set down his pencil and freed Link's arm from the venipuncture machine. He pressed a bandage into the small hole that bubbled on his skin. "All right, Link, onto the next bit. I'll need to collect some tissue and bone samples from you."

Link's heart skipped a beat. That didn't sound pleasant. "O-okay?"

Maz Koshia guided Link's hand to press onto his bandage. "Hold this here and stay where you are. I'll have you lay on the floor later. For now, try to relax."

Maz Koshia took up a few more vials, the bottle, the rag, and his tray of tools. He then wet the rag with the coppery liquid and dabbed at Link's abdomen, just below his ribcage. It must have been some sort of numbing agent, as Link's skin began to tingle.

The monk paused upon drawing back the rag. Squinting, he looked closer at Link's abdomen, stopping to run a finger along his skin. "Odd…" he murmured.

"What? What is it?" Link asked, growing worried for a moment.

He looked down to catch a glance at what Maz Koshia was inspecting. It was faint, but he could make it out: a long, silver scar, shaped like a three-pronged pitchfork, extending from his ribcage down to his pelvis.

Maz Koshia stared at it for a while, wondering, "I wonder what gave you this? It's… rather distinctive."

Link's mouth soured for some reason. He gave a hopeless shrug. "I couldn't tell you."

Making note of it, the monk ultimately shrugged it off. He laid his toolset onto his lap. Link, remembering what was coming, leaned back, breathing deeply. He couldn't bear to look as Maz Koshia grabbed some forceps and a small knife, leaning towards him.

"Try not to move. This will only take a second…" the monk breathed.

Link grimaced only slightly when the knife split his skin and the forceps were slid into the incision, rummaging around before pulling out a ragged strip of body tissue. The moment the sample was out, Maz Koshia grabbed another tool and pressed it into Link's wound with a disquieting sizzle of his flesh.

Link sucked in a gasp and jolted — he'd felt that one. It was hot, like a branding iron. His gaze flew to the tool: a white-hot crystal with a handle grafted to the bottom. Link grit his teeth as Maz Koshia held the tool against him before rapidly retracting it. He then pressed another bandage to his pearly, singed skin. Amazingly, the wound had sealed shut with minimal bleeding.

"Are you all right?" the monk asked, his voice tender.

Link nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good," the monk replied, slipping the sample into a vial and sealing it. He patted Link's knee. "I need to make two more extractions. Marrow and bone. Hang in there, you're doing well."

Maz Koshia repeated his procedure twice. For the second iteration, he once again numbed the operating area and made a small cut into Link's previously-injured knee, extracting a gelatinous magenta marrow from his kneecap. Upon cauterizing that, he instructed Link to stretch out on his front on the floor. Link did so, lying with his hands clenched around the Sheikah Slate. Maz Koshia crouched over him, numbed him, and made another incision at the base of his spine. Inserting his forceps, he chipped off a minute piece of his vertebra, setting it aside in a vial. Link gave a slight grunt at that one. Sealing the wound, the monk then bandaged him up and helped him into a chair.

Already, Link's incisions were slightly sore. He held a hand to the bandage on his back, his face twisted with discomfort. That hadn't been as traumatic as he was envisioning, but still, it hadn't been pleasant. At least it was over, now.

Maz Koshia laid a palm on his shoulder, worrying, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for checking." Link glanced at the three biopsies on the table. "What were all these for?"

Purah came around as Maz Koshia explained, "I wanted to run some molecular tests, to see how deep this… infection runs. Once the power is back on, we'll place them into the analytical instruments and see what we're dealing with." Pausing, the monk took a quick glance around the lab. Whatever he was looking for, he came up short.

He turned to Purah. "Director, where is your Constellation Display?"

Link had no earthly idea what he was talking about, but Purah did. She sighed, huffing. "Would you believe an earthquake knocked it down? About a month ago the whole place started shaking; when it fell, it almost crushed Symin. The whole thing shattered and we had no choice but to throw it out."

Maz Koshia frowned. "Unfortunate. How are we going to view the lab results without one?"

Purah's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh my gosh! I haven't shown you yet, have I?!" She left Link and Maz Koshia puzzled when she darted off to a cabinet, pulling something out. When she returned, she shoved something into their faces, beaming, "Behold, my magnum opus!"

They both gawked. It was another Sheikah Slate, or rather, a very convincing imitation. But it was more compact, square in shape, rather than rectangular. It glowed an inviting blue hue between its decorative handles, which it had two of, making it easier for Purah to grip.

Purah sang, "I give you — this is genius — the Slate Lite!"

Link jumped when a sudden buzzing sensation struck his hip. His Sheikah Slate had purred, almost in intrigue when Purah announced the Slate Lite. His hand flew to it, his eyes bulging. He leaned back slightly, but in their excitement, Purah and Maz Koshia didn't notice.

The monk held his hands out, cocking his head. "May I?" Purah eagerly gave the Slate Lite to him. He turned it over in his hands, admiring it from all angles. "Excellent craftsmanship. Beautiful attention to detail," he grinned. "My fellow monks would be proud. How much function does it have?"

Purah shrugged. "Not much. It doesn't have quite the horsepower to run normal Runes, but it _can_ take pictures. We mostly use it as another display, really. Took me seventy-five years to get it working as well as it does."

"Well, color me impressed!" Maz Koshia mused. Purah's face lit up at that, her eyes glistening. "This will work well for the test results. I cannot wait to see it in action."

"Ooh, me neither, me neither!" she squealed, hopping up and down.

Maz Koshia turned and held the Slate Lite out to Link, inviting him to look at it. While Link was also impressed that Purah had managed to build it, he nevertheless shied away from the monk's offer. He remembered the first time he held the Sheikah Slate — how the Malice inside him had greedily forced its way inside the device, giving rise to its unique _personality._ The last thing he wanted was to do was repeat the dreadful act on Purah's pet project.

He shook his head, muttering, "I'd better not," while gripping his corrupted Slate.

A spark of recollection went off in Maz Koshia's mind. He, too, remembered his first encounter with the corrupted Slate. It hadn't exactly greeted him warmly. He tucked the Lite close to his chest, agreeing with a reverent, "Right, right." He then returned the device to Purah.

She paused, pursing her lips. "Speak of the devil… I must say I'm more than a bit curious about the original Slate." Her eyes zeroed in on it, sitting in Link's lap. He instinctually clutched it tighter. "Is it just me, or does it look a bit, er, different?"

Link and Maz Koshia exchanged glances. "You don't know the half of it," Link said.

He was about to explain what had happened when a sudden rushing sound issued from the walls, cutting him off. It was deep, mechanical, like a machine whirring to life. The lights of the lab gradually burned brighter, overpowering the candlelight. A flurry of footsteps, followed by a cry of panic, sounded from the front porch. Everyone turned their heads toward the doorway, whereupon Symin stumbled in, his pants smothered in grass stains, one of his sandals distinctly smoking.

He gave them a crooked smile and adjusted his glasses. "Furnace relit! We're ready to go!"

Purah beamed at him, "Just in time, Symin! Great work!" She then tapped her fingers on her Slate Lite, squinting at the Sheikah Slate. "I guess we'll look into it later, hm? For now, we need to finish up your exam."

Link glanced at his things. "Erm, can I put my clothes back on first?"

"Not quite. There's one more test we need to run, and it works better if you're naked. Sorry," Purah replied, making her way to the large stalactite hovering over the stage in the corner. It now breathed with vivid blue light. "Don't worry, it won't hurt at all. Come on over here."

Link, desperate to get himself decent again, followed her. She tapped some instructions into her Slate Lite, requesting the biopsies from Maz Koshia. He brought them over, joining Symin at the base of the stage, observing. After plugging in Link's blood, tissue, and bone samples into a console on the wall, Purah stepped back and typed in a few more commands.

She pointed to the pedestal beneath the stalactite. "All righty, Link, it's ready for you. This pretty little Guidance Stone will run a full body analysis. All you have to do is wait beneath it, okay? Have a seat on the pedestal."

Eyeing the colossal stalactite hanging above his head, Link gingerly sat upon the pedestal, gripping its sides. The moment he sat down, the Guidance Stone began to glitter with blue light, which dripped down its surface like a trickle of water. The light coalesced into a single drop at the tip of the Guidance Stone, growing thicker by the second. At last, it grew too heavy and dropped, landing with a splash on top of Link's head.

A tooth-chattering shudder ripped through him as the drop of light soaked through his hair and skin, dissolving into his body. He felt a jolt of what seemed like ice water shoot through his veins, giving him a chill. It ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, giving him goosebumps.

Purah hurriedly scooted towards him and extended the Slate Lite by his feet. He leaned over, amazed, to see that the drop of light had seeped through his body and was gathering again on his heels.

They were all captivated. The light gathered into two thick, bright droplets before they slipped off Link. Purah caught them on the Slate Lite's screen. As soon as the light left him, the chill that had taken Link was gone. Purah straightened, looking down at her Slate Lite. Her glasses lit up from an influx of glyphs on its screen.

Link blinked, amazed and slightly confused. "Is that it?"

Purah nodded. "Yup, we're done!" In a flash, Maz Koshia and Symin appeared beside her, crowding their heads to peek over her shoulders. Her nose scrunched. "Oof, this is gonna take a while to process, though. There's _so much data_ here…"

"That's the most data I've ever seen…" Maz Koshia breathed. Indeed, the Sheikah symbols on the screen blurred by endlessly. Link wasn't sure what that meant. Maz Koshia folded his arms. "Strange. Well, it is just a matter of waiting, I suppose. Patience is a virtue."

"How long do you think it'll take?" Link asked, squirming where he sat. Though still nervous about learning the truth, he suddenly found himself antsy.

Purah shook her head. "A few hours at the very least. Maybe a day at the worst. But I can leave it running."

The group exchanged glances. Now that they had done what they were eager to do, they were unsure of what to do next.

"So… breakfast, then?" Symin proposed. "I'd be happy to run back down to the market."

Link and Purah nodded. Though his abdomen hurt, Link was eager to get something into his stomach. He hadn't eaten in what felt like days.

But Maz Koshia stopped them. He had gone quiet, deep in thought, for a moment before he cleared his throat, recapturing everyone's attention. "Actually, there is one other thing I want to look into. It would prove beneficial to our analysis of Link."

Link winced to himself, not looking forward to additional exams. "What is it?"

The monk pressed his palms together and touched his fingertips to his veil. He looked Link dead in the eyes, stating, "I would like to return to the Shrine of Resurrection. From what you have told me, that is where this all started. I must see what's become of my Shrine for myself."

Link's mind was suddenly swamped with memories of waking up there — memories that made his blood sour. The darkness, the isolation, his confusion. He'd tried his best to purge it from his mind. But Maz Koshia was determined. Link supposed paying the Shrine a visit wouldn't hurt while they waited, but all the same, something nagged at him. A sense of dread. Only, he had no idea what he could possibly be dreading in that empty tomb.

Purah and Symin, meanwhile, were ecstatic. They both chimed in, forgetting breakfast, "Can we come?!"

Maz Koshia nodded. "Of course. I would prefer you did. Pack whatever you think we may need. I doubt we will be there long. That all depends on whatever we find."

Purah and Symin shared bright-eyed, eager smiles. "I'll pack the Slate Lite!" Purah said.

"I'll bring the research journals!" Symin added. They then darted off to prepare their field bags.

Link, feeling shaky for some reason, slid off the pedestal and joined Maz Koshia on the lab floor. They stared at each other for a moment, both of their minds clouded.

Link wet his lips, murmuring, "We're going back…? I never thought I would. I… hope we find what we're looking for." He blinked, frowning. "What _are_ we looking for, Maz? There's… nothing left there."

The monk folded his arms. "Answers." He stared, long and hard, at Link before he glanced down at the Sheikah Slate. The monk sighed through his nose. "I hope."

As Symin and Purah gathered their things, Link took the opportunity to get dressed and don his packs. Finally, when everyone was ready to go, they all stepped outside. As Link looked out over Hateno, his brows furrowed. It only then occurred to him just how far away the Shrine of Resurrection was from there. Purah and Symin weren't properly dressed for the long trek it would take, nor did they pack enough provisions for it.

Link turned to Maz Koshia, puzzled. "We're… not going to walk to the Shrine, are we?"

"Not at all," the monk replied. "We are going to warp there. Hm, now that I'm thinking about it, have you ever warped before?"

Link's eyes glazed over. "I'm not sure what that even means?"

"Teleportation, Linky!" Purah said, here smile wide. "It's awesome!"

"And instantaneous. The perfect way to travel!" Symin added.

"Wow," Link marveled. "I didn't think that that was possible. How do we do it?"

Maz Koshia smiled, placing a hand around Link's shoulder. "Just like this. You may want to close your eyes."

Though he had instructed Link to close his eyes, they remained open, watching the monk make a circular motion with an open palm. Soft blue light emanated from his fingertips, growing brighter until it was almost blinding. The light began to crawl across the monk's arm, slow and tendril-like, before rapidly coating the rest of his body. But it didn't stop with Maz Koshia — it latched onto Link, Symin, and Purah as well, smothering them. They weren't even fazed.

Link was suddenly overwhelmed by a suffocating feeling of numbness that spread throughout his body like wildfire. He involuntarily panicked, choking on the air that refused to flow into his lungs. But he couldn't move. He could only watch with a surge of horror as the light coating his body began to break him apart before all of his pieces cascaded into the air like a breeze.

All at once, he didn't exist. And yet he _did_ exist, his free-floating consciousness somehow registering that he was rocketing through the atmosphere at blinding speeds. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He didn't have a mouth, lungs, anymore. His body had been temporarily converted into light. To say that it was disorienting would be a massive understatement.

Fortunately for Link's delirium, the trip was instantaneous, just as Symin had said. Link had no sooner began to panic when the smears that flashed before his eyes began to solidify into a hillside lined with pine trees and tall grass. As quickly as it came on, his numbness dissipated, and he found himself standing with his real, flesh and blood legs on solid ground.

His knees immediately gave out and he flopped over, battling a bout of dry-heaving. He ripped away his goggles and scarf.

"Uh, oh! Link!" Purah cried.

Maz Koshia was immediately at his side, a reassuring hand laid on his back. His touch helped to anchor Link's spiraling equilibrium somewhat.

"You kept your eyes open, didn't you?" he cooed.

Link nodded, clutching the grass for dear life.

The monk chuckled. "I did that on my first try, too. Just give yourself time to catch up."

Purah, Symin, and Maz Koshia patiently waited for him to re-orient himself. It only took a few minutes. Eventually, Link got to his feet and gave himself a shake of his head to prepare himself. Looking about, he found that he recognized his surroundings: they had materialized onto the hilltop just outside of the Shrine of Resurrection. Far off into the distance loomed the spires of Hyrule Castle, shrouded with darkness.

The group viewed the castle for a moment before an icy breeze licked at their necks. Turning, they came to face the gaping, dark maw of the Shrine of Resurrection nestled within the cliffside. A faint red light beckoned at them from deep within.

Link's heart gave a heavy _thud._ Meanwhile, Purah and Symin's excitement abated slightly. Maz Koshia stiffened, his fists clenching. They could all feel it. Something was off.

"Here we are," the monk murmured. Waving for the group to join him, he slowly tread forward, followed closely by Link, Purah, and finally, Symin.

They stepped through the mouth of the Shrine and down the stairs into the semi-darkness, their figures highlighted by the crimson glow of the lights on the walls. Link wiped at a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. He felt for a moment that he was crawling down the throat of some slumbering beast.

Something shimmied up to his leg. He would have cried out if he hadn't heard Purah whisper, "It wasn't like this when I left it…"

Link shuddered. "It was for me." Purah's breath rattled at that.

When they finally reached the ground floor, they had all fallen silent. Only the quiet clapping of their feet made any sound. The crimson lighting was more pronounced down there, soaking them completely; no natural sunlight could follow them. Link's eyes glowed rather eerily in the dark. The humid, stale air had since cleared out, but it had grown dank and frigid, making their breaths cloud. A stench, charred and sickly-sweet, hinted the air as well, making them gag.

They strode straight through the anteroom, never slowing their pace. As they walked, Symin breathed, "I feel like we shouldn't be here."

"This is _my_ Shrine," Maz Koshia said firmly, his voice agitating the darkness. _"I_ decide who is and isn't welcome."

His words made Link's spine tingle.

When they finally reached the doorway to the pedestal chamber, Maz Koshia ground to a dead halt. Link bumped into him by accident, his heart fluttering.

"What's wrong?" he asked. But Maz Koshia didn't reply. Peering around the monk's elbow, Link caught a glimpse of the next room.

The sight before them was grotesque. It wasn't the same Shrine Link had left from. A thin black fog hung over the broken shards of the resurrection pedestal thrown across the floor, but something was covering them. It was the source of the smell: a thick, sludgy mire of Malice, black as night and glowing with a subtle magenta light. It seemed to call Link, pumping a zing of adrenaline into his veins and urging him forward. But he remained rooted in his place, Maz Koshia blocking him.

They all stared, disturbed, at what lay before them. Maz Koshia had gone as stiff as a statue. Link flinched when the monk finally moved, dragging his feet forward to step inside.

"Maz…?!" Link called after him.

Maz Koshia looked about the room, horrified by the state of his life's work. "It's wrong," he growled. His voice was raw, disgusted. "It's _all wrong._ Twisted. Perverted. Desecrated." He stepped further inside till he stood just before the Malice slathered on the floor, his hands shaking. "How could this happen…?"

Link had never seen him like this. It was unsettling. He wasn't sure how to console him. Link eased himself forward, attempting to explain to him that this was much different from what he had seen, that it had worsened. But he never got the chance.

"Maz?" Link began.

The moment he was within arm's-reach of Maz Koshia, the monk suddenly whirled on him, the eye on his veil blazing with a crazed fire. Link froze, petrified. He was helpless to react when Maz Koshia lashed out at him, wrapping his hand around his neck and shoving him over to the wall, where he pounded Link against it.

Purah and Symin gasped, storming inside. But they trembled in their tracks. They didn't dare stand up to the towering, vengeful skeleton threatening Link.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" the monk roared in Link's face, his voice thundering off of the walls. "ALL — YOUR — FAULT!"

"Maz — what are you — ?!" Link wheezed, fear searing his blood.

He cut off when Maz Koshia's hand tightened around his throat. The monk leaned his burning veil closer, hissing, "Show your face, _Defiler,_ so that I may rip you out of Link _cell — by — cell!"_

With each word he spoke, his grip only strengthened till Link's windpipe began to creak. Link gasped, his hands flying up to claw at Maz Koshia's. Despite his ancient frame, he was incredibly strong. He glowered through Link, delving deep inside him. Part of Link knew that the monk wasn't screaming at him personally — he was screaming at someone else. Some _thing_ else. But even then, it was difficult not to shy away when the words were being spat into Link's own face.

"L-let me go, Maz, y-you're hurting me!" he whimpered. "Please!"

Link's lungs heaved as Maz Koshia proceeded to slide him up the wall with ease. Dangling by only his throat, Link kicked and sputtered, his gaze locked onto the fiery Sheikah eye boring into him. Maz Koshia suddenly wasn't himself, anymore. He was merciless, hellish. And Link couldn't get away, no matter how much he writhed. As he stared down the Sheikah's eye, he squirmed against his blinding fear slithering deep inside him, where it pooled, festering.

He had felt this before.

 _Oh, no._

"Not until you face me," Maz Koshia spat. "Go ahead. Make my day. Prove to me your might! Or would you rather hide behind Link's face, _coward?"_

A shudder rattled Link's spine, an involuntary glare twisting his brow. A split-second realization hit him, sucking his breath away with a whimper. He swallowed, shaking his head. "Please — don't — ! I-I don't — want — "

Maz Koshia cut Link off, digging his thumb into his Adam's apple. Link choked. He was beginning to see stars. His fear of Maz Koshia ballooned in his chest till his lungs strained, threatening to burst. He wheezed in and out in rapid, hyperventilating draws, so much that his extremities grew numb.

"Stop — !" Link croaked, slapping at Maz Koshia's hands. "Please!"

"Only if you challenge me," the monk snarled, peering past Link's eyes, goading what lurked behind them.

Link shook his head. He wouldn't fight his friend.

But that only fueled Maz Koshia's frustration. He had been counting on it. With a yell, he reared Link away from the wall and slammed him against it so hard the stone cracked. Link's eyes rolled in their sockets; he felt something warm ooze down his neck.

"CHALLENGE ME!" the monk screamed. "CHALLENGE ME, BEAST!"

Beast.

 _Beast._

 _BEAST._

Something inside Link snapped.

That single word put him over, setting off a chain-reaction within him — one that he knew was happening, but was powerless to stop. It was like a flash flood, carrying him away from his sanity, throwing him into a torrent of emotions he couldn't control. He cried out against the tremendous wave of frothing, mind-numbing fear and anger that tore through his body, electrifying his insides.

"NO! NO, NO, NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Link howled. He wasn't sure who he was screaming at, Maz Koshia… or someone else.

It made no difference to the monk. He had him right where he wanted him. The moment he pulled his free hand back to strike, Link's head rushed. He extended his own hand in efforts to block an attack, but before Link could stop it, a hauntingly familiar sensation barreled through his veins. Both Link and Maz Koshia watched in horror as a twisting tentacle of Malice exploded out of Link's shoulder, crawling down his arm and engulfing it, extending his reach.

Maz Koshia only had time to blink before Link's Malice surged straight for his face. But it didn't stop when it hit him. It greedily swallowed his head whole and forced his skull back to stave him off.

Link's heart stopped when a nauseating _crack_ echoed throughout the chamber. The sound seemed to reverberate through his Malice, slithering into him.

Maz Koshia's grip on his neck abruptly loosened, and the monk crumbled to the floor.

Link slid down the wall, hitting the floor hard. He automatically curled into a ball and clutched his crushed throat, coughing as he struggled to breathe. He didn't hear the approach of Symin and Purah. They gathered beside him and Maz Koshia, utterly dumbfounded by the scene they had witnessed.

After a moment or two, Link regained control of his breathing. He watched through bleary vision, his ears ringing, as Symin checked Maz Koshia, who wasn't moving. Purah turned to face Link, wide-eyed and speechless. His heart shriveled in his chest at her shaken expression. Sweating, he looked from her, to Maz Koshia's unmoving form, and then down to his arm.

His stomach heaved. His breath barely rushed in and out of his lungs.

His Malice hadn't receded. It painted his arm a grisly black, laced with vibrant magenta veins.

Link didn't hesitate, his horror deciding his next move for him.

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the Shrine.

* * *

 **Cliffhanger time! (please don't hate me)**

 **So, what'd you think?**

 **I rather enjoyed diving into the medical exam section, but I hope it wasn't boring. I find this stuff interesting. :) I was actually inspired by fellow BotW writer Blade of the Bookworms in this section. She has some pretty incredible stories where she goes into depth with this sort of stuff, and it is _fascinating_ (Anything for You comes to mind). Thank you for inspiring me, friend! :)**

 **Can I also tell you how adorable Purah is? I loved writing her to death (she's a hoot!), and Symin is a delight as well. Maz Koshia, on the other hand... might have lost his cool, there. And Link! Poor Link! :( The plot thickens... We'll see how this develops in the next chapter!**

 **Anyway, any thoughts? Predictions? Concerns?! Let me know what you thought! I love hearing your feedback.** **Thanks again for reading! You really keep me going. :)**

 **I hope you're enjoying the Hateno section so far. Things are only going to get more wild from here, trust me!**

 **See you next chapter! :D**


	16. Fallout

**Well, look who it is! It's me! Yay!**

 **Sheesh, I seem to always have an excuse for my late chapters... :/ Things have been fun, let me tell you. I've been job hunting, started new work, then come down with a lovely case of bronchitis... at least I can't say I've been bored! But I can say that I missed this story. I've done my darndest to crank it out, but I still apologize for the huge delay.**

 **This chapter is a bit shorter than the last chapter. I initially had a lot more packed in this, but as I wrote it, I realized that I had fit _too much_ into it, so I bumped some to the next chapter. ****But don't worry, we're still going to learn a lot in this one. You want some answers? YOU'RE GETTING THEM, BABY.**

 **I hope you enjoy! To all you readers, both new and long-time, welcome to chapter 16. I need to warn you, though, this one's gonna hurt.**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

Link ran.

He ran like hell.

He ran as if Calamity Ganon himself were breathing down his neck. Frenzied, breathless, desperate. Where he was running to, he didn't know.

But he didn't care. Anywhere was better than that godforsaken Shrine.

Link tore through the anteroom and up the staircase, clinging to the slimy mass of Malice that was his arm, ingraining his fingers into it till he lost feeling in his hands. That thing was his arm — that thing was _attached_ to him. He couldn't even look at it. Thick and sinewy, it throbbed beneath his grip like a beating heart, glowing and visibly pulsating. It was disgusting. An ocean of bile sloshed in his stomach with every twitch of it.

The fragments of Link's shattered psyche pleaded for him to stop and spew out the caustic horror dissolving him from the inside out. But he didn't dare. He had to get out. Dear god, he had to get out. He couldn't stay in that Shrine for another minute.

He ignored his body's screams, his legs powering him up the steps without his input. The stairs seemed to stretch on into eternity. They just wouldn't _end._ When, at last, far ahead — seemingly miles ahead — a faint glimmer of sunlight winked at him from the end of the tunnel. His ragged breath caught. He needed that light. He couldn't get to it fast enough.

But the closer approached, the more the walls around him began to melt and warp into a cavernous abyss, closing in on him. Link gave a jolt when an unholy wail surged out of the shadows, filling his ears. It was coming from the walls. The Shrine — it knew what he'd done. Both to it, and its creator. And it wanted to swallow him whole for it.

Link's lungs spontaneously crushed as the walls leapt towards him. Crying out, his hands flew to his head, cradling it against the onslaught of darkness. He stumbled, but caught himself. He couldn't afford to fall. No, he wouldn't let himself. He had to get out _right now._

He forced his legs harder, but he couldn't tell if he was running any faster. The roaring in his ears masked his footfalls. Undaunted, the darkness crept in further, enclosing him on every side. He could feel it pressing against his flesh. He tried to tell it to leave him alone, but his words clogged up his throat.

Finally, just as the Shrine was on the brink of consuming him, Link shot out from its mouth and onto the cliffside. His lungs burned as if he had run for miles, but in reality, he had bolted through the entirety of the Shrine in less than ten seconds.

The darkness surrounding him scattered, a void of blinding light taking its place. Link's eyes screwed shut against it. Though free from the Shrine, his breakneck pace never faltered — he charged into the tall grass in a straight, unrelenting path. As his eyes adjusted, he found with a new flush of panic that his vision was… off. The glade around him was smudgy and seemed distant, as though he were looking at it through a foggy spyglass. As if he wasn't really there.

While his sweltering mind tried to make sense of his surroundings, his gaze found the only object in his line of sight that was crystal clear: a familiar silhouette, standing against the horizon. Hyrule Castle. Its spires struggled out of the bank of black clouds consuming it. Link's Malice gave a distinct spasm as he stared at the castle. His hand flew to his sludgy forearm, his face contorting. It was almost as if his arm was... _reaching_ for the castle.

And the castle reached back. Magenta light flickered along the clouds, which began to roil before his eyes, almost signaling to him. Something there knew he was staring at it, and it lavished the attention. Link's racing heart abruptly slowed and gave a _thump_. He choked, his head swimming.

Link couldn't stop staring. And yet, he couldn't stop running. He was so captivated by the castle, so engrossed in his flight from the Shrine, that he completely forgot the lay of the land. In the state he was in, he had no way of seeing the fast-approaching cliffside until after his foot plunged off the edge. He sucked in a gasp, his stomach lurching as his gaze was wrenched from the castle to his feet. Through the soup that was his vision, he couldn't fully see the hundred-foot drop looming beneath him, but even if he could, he had been moving too fast to stop himself.

Link realized too late what was happening. His voice, lodged deep in his throat, finally burst out of him in a strangled scream as he barreled off the cliff and plunged toward the ground far below. Squinting through his streaming eyes, he tried to make sense of the blurry colors rushing past him, but his total lack of depth perception made it impossible. He thrust his arms forward out of instinct. It was all he could do; he was in too much of a blind panic to even consider pulling out his paraglider.

As he careened toward the ground, an all-too-familiar bloom of adrenaline rose from the pit of his stomach, cutting through his shock. He was helpless to subdue it. Within a split-second, he watched, both amazed and horrified, as the Malice coating his arm twisted and bulged, doubling in size.

 _No, not again_ — he almost passed out at the sight of it. His normal hand immediately latched onto it, fingertips pressing into it in efforts to contain it. But it was for naught. Like a snake poised to strike, his Malice shot toward the ground, hitting it with a splatter.

Something inside him took over, then — an instinct he never knew he had. The moment he was within seconds of crashing into the ground, his Malice tensed. Link grunted as his shoulder was wrenched out of its socket, his arm whipping his body parallel to the ground and redirecting his momentum. He was flung like a ragdoll, tumbling along the foot of the cliff before hurtling front-first into a tree.

He smashed into the trunk with a tremendous crash, the impact punching the wind out of him and sending the tree swaying. He was showered with acorns. Nearby wildlife scattered. Both the tree and Link's ribs groaned in unison; he fell limp against the roots, a croak of pain fizzling out of his gritted teeth. He couldn't move.

He lay there for a moment, futilely gulping in air like a fish as his body struggled to catch up with itself. Clawing for breath, he knotted his fingers into the grass, his blurry, spinning gaze locked onto the castle peeking at him from between the trees. The longer he stared at it, the more intently it stared back.

 _What have you wrought, Link?_ it seemed to ask him.

"Don't…!" Link pleaded, his voice little more than a rasp.

 _What have you wrought?_ it demanded.

He knew what. He knew very well what he had wrought. The reminder of it lurked, cruel and merciless, in a dark corner of his mind, where he had shoved it away. But he refused to acknowledge it. Not now. Not ever. He didn't dare. He had no idea what he would do if he ever stopped to even think about it.

But as he lay there, Link's body and mind began to unravel faster than he could hold them together. The passing breeze froze the sweat that drenched his skin and soaked his clothes, his lungs shriveling into worthless shreds in his chest. All the while, his Malice-slathered arm continued to pulsate, every _thump_ dispelling the haze clouding his mind — his last bastion against his harrowing reality.

While in the Shrine, Link's mind had been thrown into chaos. He couldn't think straight. For a moment, that was a blessing, saving him from total mental collapse. He couldn't think about anything other than his desperate need to run. But now that he was no longer running for his life, he couldn't escape the death knell that was his reality. All he could do was lie there as the knowledge of what he had done shoved his head underwater, drowning him in dark despair.

It happened again. Oh god, it happened again.

Link began to choke on his shallow breaths as if Maz Koshia's hand was still crushing his throat. Maz Koshia — what had he done to him?

Link was powerless to fight the memories of his outburst. All he could see was Maz Koshia's fiery veil glaring him down, all he could hear was the awful _crack_ of his neck, the sight of him hitting the floor, motionless. The horror in Purah's eyes. It all kept replaying in his mind, over and over and over again, beating him into the ground.

He sucked in a rattled breath, his body shaking so hard his teeth chattered. Yes, he knew what he had done. But he couldn't swallow the reality that was being forced down his throat. He had done it _again_. Only it hadn't been a Yiga he had hurt this time. It was a friend. A Sheikah monk.

 _Maz Koshia._

He was gone. Link had killed him. Snapped his neck like it was nothing. It had been _easy._

Finally, the floodgates opened. A torrent of hot tears coursed down Link's bone mask. He couldn't breathe. He shook his head erratically. He refused to believe it. Not Maz Koshia. Not him. Not Maz Koshia, the dedicated servant of Hylia who had waited ten-thousand years for him; the friend he had confided in, shared his deepest fears and anxieties with; the monk who had devoted his entire existence to him.

The gut-wrenching _crack_ of Maz Koshia's neck wracked Link's mind again, shattering whatever remained of his resolve into pieces. Link recoiled as if he'd been kicked.

" _I'm sorry, Maz…!"_ Link cried. " _I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

Link's stomach writhed inside him. He began to heave. But his stomach, pulverized from hitting the tree, drew up nothing. Grunting against the bile burning in his gut, he twisted his fingers into his hair and slammed his Malice-coated fist into the grass, bitterly cursing himself.

God, he was weak.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Hopeless.

This was all his fault. Maz Koshia said so himself. Link had only made things worse — just like he always did. His heart trembled for a moment at that thought until a scowl warped his brow, his jaw grinding. He struck the grass again, a ragged shout of self-loathing ripping from his throat.

He screamed till his lungs gave out. Over the following moments, he struggled to regain his breath, sucking in stifled gasps and releasing in bursts. Meanwhile, he could only stare, unblinking, at the thumping mass of Malice stretched out before him. The magenta veins coursing along it pulsed with light. Its incessant, organ-like beating was both revolting and hypnotizing. But it didn't feel strange. If anything, it felt real. Part of him. Normal. But god, was it _wrong._

As he continued to stare at it, he suddenly noticed something. A smell. Something was burning. He blinked, refocusing his gaze, before he quickly discovered thin tendrils of smoke curling off the grass beneath his sludgy knuckles.

 _He was burning the grass._ Link cried out and took his arm back, clamping down on it with his hand. No, this wasn't happening. What could he do? It was only getting worse. And he had no idea how to control it.

His face contorted into a snarl. " _What's wrong with me?!"_ he hissed through bared teeth.

He was afraid he already knew the answer.

But he couldn't dwell on that. He had to get rid of the poison on his arm. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore, nor did he care to see what else it could destroy. He'd seen enough. More than enough. Breath afire, Link reached out and began to scrape his fingers across his Malice, hoping to strip it away. But he may as well have been scratching at bricks. He'd rip his fingernails off before he removed anything. But it was all he could think to do amidst the maelstrom of loathing and panic lambasting his brain.

In spite of the futility of the endeavor, Link consumed himself with shearing away his Malice. Obsessed as he was, it was a miracle he heard a voice calling from afar.

"Link!? Link, where are you?!"

Link froze, his head snapping up, whirling toward the direction of the voice. He knew that voice.

His heart fluttered as a face appeared in his mind. It was a smiling face, yet one he could barely bring himself to even visualize, let alone look in the eye. With a grunt, Link rolled off the tree roots to try to get to his feet, to run where nobody would ever find him. But he only managed to make it to his knees before his bruised ribs stopped him, leeching the breath out of him. Bracing himself, he remained where he knelt, praying that the earth would swallow him up.

In the distance, Symin came to a stop at the foot of the hill, his brows low as he scanned the terrain. He tangled his fingers in his hair, chewing at his lip. Still no sign of Link.

Symin cupped his hands around his mouth, crying again, "Link! LINK!"

Unfortunately for Link, he didn't blend into the forest well. Symin quickly spotted his cerulean tunic through the trees. He hesitated only just before darting over. Link listened to his approach with bated breath, each of his footsteps stiffening his spine. When Symin finally came close, he lingered a fair distance away at a nearby tree. His eyes immediately found Link's arm. He swallowed a mouthful of sour fear at the sight of it.

"...Link?" Symin asked, his voice faint.

Link flinched when he spoke. He didn't reply. He could only gaze into the grass, clinging to his arm, his body shaking.

There was a brief pause. "Are… are you all right?" Symin wondered.

Link flinched again, but he barely processed Symin's words. He took in a throttled breath, boring his fingers deeper into his arm. "L-l-leave me alone, Symin — y-you shouldn't be here — !" he stammered.

Symin frowned, his brows knitting together. Mustering his courage, he repeated, his voice gaining a slightly stern edge, "Link, are you all right?"

There was another pause. Link exhaled shakily. Symin's tone had startled him. "I-I don't… I don't know…!"

"Link… listen to me, okay?" Symin began carefully. "I think you're having a panic attack."

Link's face twitched. "What do you mean?" Symin's words shook him for some reason. Circumventing his shame, he twisted around to look at him. "H-how do you know that?"

Symin flinched. Nervous as he was in the wake of what he'd seen, he managed to hold himself together when he took in the haggard, miserable Hylian before him.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "...I've seen them before," he murmured. He then raised a hand, continuing slowly, "I'm here for you, okay? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. What do you need?"

His voice… he kept it so level. So calm. He was trying to help, in spite of everything. But why, after what he'd seen Link do? Link searched Symin's face, struggling to comprehend his motives. He didn't reply. He couldn't. Link lowered his gaze, still gripping his arm.

Symin asked again, "What can I do for you, Link?"

"I don't know…!" Link breathed.

Symin's eyes wandered to Link's arm. He knew exactly what Link needed, even if he didn't. Gesturing to it, he proposed, "Can I help with that?"

Link shuddered, gritting his teeth. "It won't go away..." he grunted.

"What do you mean? H-how do we get it to go away?"

Link shook his head. "I don't know, I — "

He cut himself off, his mind beginning to race. When he paused to think back, the more sporadic his thoughts became. But they weren't blurry, like the edges of his vision. They were razor sharp in clarity, almost burning in his skull. As horrible as the reality of it was, this _had_ happened before. With Izer. After Link had impaled him and shattered his body, the Malice coating his arm had simply melted off.

Unblinking, Link rambled, crushing his arm, "It just went away last time — w-why isn't it going away _now?!"_

" _...Last time?"_ Symin repeated, his eyes widening.

The resurgence of memories of that night ignited a firestorm of panic and rage inside Link. He turned on Symin, roaring, "YES! This happened before, all right?! I KILLED someone with it! Just like I killed Maz Koshia — !" Just saying those words immediately drained the adrenaline out of him. Wheezing, Link slumped over, crying, " _Oh my god...! I did it again! I did it again — oh, god!"_

Symin recoiled, ducking near the tree he stood at. He struggled to control his heightened breath as he stared at Link. He knew Link needed help — Link _desperately_ needed it. But Symin had no idea what to do or what to say.

After a moment or two of tense silence — broken only by Link's gasping — words finally came to Symin. Shaking his head, he began, "Link, Link — you didn't kill Maz Koshia."

Link's face twisted into a filthy glare upon hearing his words. He couldn't help but snarl at Symin, his yellow eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me," he growled.

Symin's heart fluttered, but he nevertheless went on, voice shaking, "B-but I'm not lying. I promise. Think about it for a second — he's lived for ten-thousand years, right? His body… it doesn't work like yours or mine." He shrugged. "Yes, you hurt him, but you didn't kill him."

Link's eyes widened, the tremendous, invisible weight on his shoulders lifting somewhat. He searched Symin's expression for any trace of deceit, but found none. "You're… you're serious?" he breathed. "You're telling the truth?"

Symin offered him a weak smile, nodding. "It's the truth. Trust me — he told me all this himself."

Link's heart nearly exploded out of his chest. He surged toward Symin, blurting, "He's talking?!"

Startled by Link's sudden movements, Symin staggered back, tripping over a tree root and landing on his rear. They stared at each other for a moment before Symin stammered, "W-well, er, he's _swearing_ rather than talking, but yes, he's vocal."

Link froze, his chest heaving. "Oh my god…" he gasped. Abruptly exhausted, he leaned into a tree, his head lolling forward. "I didn't kill him, then... He's all right…!"

"Mmm… more or less," Symin replied. Link's head snapped up, recapturing Symin's gaze. He continued, adjusting his glasses, "But we need to examine him, regardless. I... I could use your help."

A shudder rolled through Link. He shook his head against the memory of Maz Koshia hitting the floor, mumbling, "No — I've already done enough…"

"Don't think like that," Symin insisted. "You can't think like that. What happened was…" he swallowed, " _...frightening,_ but you can't dwell on it."

Link scowled into his Malice. "Easy for you to say."

Symin's shoulders sagged. "I know… And I don't pretend to understand what you're going through, but… we have to stay in the present. That's what Purah always says. The present is the only thing we can change. If we dwell in the past, then we're no better off than those who fell before us." He paused, his brows furrowing. He held Link steadfast in his gaze. "I know it hurts, but please... We all need you, Link — _he_ needs you. Now, more than ever."

Symin's words managed to pierce Link's anxieties and reach his core. Interestingly enough, he almost echoed something King Rhoam had said, and that stirred something deep inside Link. Hope, perhaps? A sense of duty? He wasn't sure. Either way, the image of Maz Koshia appeared in Link's mind, the faith and support he had put in him warming his frantic thoughts. That was irreplaceable. _He_ was irreplaceable. Maz Koshia had sacrificed the greater portion of his life in service of him. And Link couldn't squander any of that, no matter the circumstances. It wouldn't be fair.

Link released a sigh, his head clearing slightly. "Okay," he agreed, forcing himself to nod. "Okay, I can help."

Symin smiled. "Thank you, Link." He eased himself to his feet. "C'mon, we need to move."

The two of them made their way towards the hill. Link walked with as much haste as he could manage — on top of his sore ribs, he was still shaking off some residual adrenaline, which made him jittery. As they climbed, Symin maintained a bit of distance between him and Link, though Link pretended not to notice. All the while, neither of them spoke. Link was grateful for that. His head, swilling with emotion, pounded in-sync with his Malice.

When they arrived at the entrance of the Shrine, it only then dawned on Link that he would have to go back inside to help Maz Koshia. He stopped dead in his tracks, a bloom of fresh anxiety swelling in his chest.

"Please don't make me go back in there," he breathed.

Symin paused, giving him a pitied look. "If we could do it any other way, we would. I'm sorry." In spite of his words, Link couldn't bring himself to move. Symin went on, speaking tenderly, "Don't be afraid. I'm right here with you. Just concentrate on breathing, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Link's gaze flickered to him. "I-I guess."

Symin began to instruct him, "Okay, just breathe in for four seconds, and breathe out for six seconds. Concentrate on that." Link did as he said, breathing in and out, counting the seconds. Symin nodded. "Good job. C'mon, we'll go together."

"Okay."

Willing his leaden legs to move, Link proceeded with Symin into the darkness. As they descended, Link fixated his attention on his breath, counting as Symin instructed him to. It helped somewhat to distract him, but it was still torture walking down those steps. But he endured it. Having Symin at his side somehow kept the hysterical fireworks threatening to burst out of him in check.

At last, they arrived at the heart of the Shrine. In the muted crimson light, Link could make out two figures inside the pedestal chamber. One lay on the ground, motionless, while the other knelt beside them. He could hear a voice, as well, echoing off the walls. Fierce and rapid, it fired off venom-laced threats as if it were stabbing the very air.

" — that _fiend!_ Confound it all! If I ever face him — by god, if I ever face him — I will rip him apart until there's nothing left of him to reincarnate! I don't care if it's not my destiny! I swear it! Upon Hylia's hand, I swear it! Raaargh!"

For some reason, Link began to sweat as he listened to the voice. He knew exactly who it belonged to. The knowledge of that both relieved and terrified him.

Symin, meanwhile, gave a shrug. "What'd I tell you? You didn't kill him."

Swallowing, Link murmured, "Thank goodness, but… he doesn't sound good." He glanced at Symin. "How bad is it?" He was almost afraid to find out.

Symin sighed through his nose. "Not sure. We won't know the extent of it until we get him to the lab."

Link's blood chilled at that, but there wasn't any time to waste. Without another word, Link drove himself forward into the pedestal chamber, Symin hot on his heels.

"Maz Koshia?!" Link called out.

Inside the chamber, Purah jumped out of her skin when Link spoke. Knelt beside Maz Koshia, she whirled around to face Link and Symin, gripping her Slate Lite with white knuckles. The monk, however, didn't so much as turn his head to greet them. No, he remained splayed on the floor, flat on his back.

Upon hearing Link's voice, Maz Koshia's scalding tone vanished in an instant, replaced with his usual calm, knowing timbre. "Link?! Is that you?!" he cried, his eyes darting wildly around the room.

As Link came closer, he got a clearer view of the monk — for better or worse. They had lifted his veil. Link suddenly realized he had never seen Maz Koshia's eyes before. They somewhat resembled his own: two glowing orbs of pure, turquoise light hovering in empty eye sockets.

But Link's stomach bubbled with guilt when he caught a glimpse of his neck and his face. His neck was buckled and crooked; Malice had melted patches of his leathery skin off. His skull was clearly visible in places, particularly around his cheekbones, nasal cavity, and mouth. He didn't look like himself. He looked… skeletal.

Quelling a sudden urge to vomit, Link forced himself forward. "I-I'm here," he said, kneeling beside Maz Koshia and Purah. Link was so engrossed in beholding the monk that he failed to notice Purah shudder away from him like a wounded dog.

Maz Koshia's glowing eyes flew to Link. His expression softened. "Oh, thank the gods… You're all right."

Link's jaw locked. He fought off another well of tears as he ran his eyes over the damage he had done. "Maz — I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," the monk dismissed, catching Link off-guard. " _I_ am sorry. Truly, I am. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. But when I saw the state of my Shrine… with the culprit standing before me… I lost control." He frowned. "It was wrong of me to do that to you. Can you ever forgive me, hero?"

A breath of relief breezed out of Link. "Of course I can. A thousand times over."

Maz Koshia chuckled and smiled at him. That soothed Link's panic immensely, but it still stirred inside him as the monk's eyes wandered to his arm. His smile slackened into a line, his gaze clouding over. He gave a short cough.

Clearing his throat, he mused, "Now… what do we do about that?"

Link bowed his head, holding his sludgy wrist. "I don't know…"

Symin then came around, interrupting them. "Maybe we can check it out at the lab?" he proposed. Crouching, he looked to Purah for a moment, waving her over, before he gestured toward the Sheikah Slate on Link's belt. "We need to go back anyway, to take a look at you, Maz Koshia. Link, can you warp us? The Slate can handle it. The monk is in no condition to do it himself."

Link blinked. He had no idea that the Slate could do that. Then again, he hadn't really explored all that it could do. Puzzled, but compliant, he was about to take up the Slate when Maz Koshia cried out, making them all jump.

"NO!" the monk hollered. "No, I'm not leaving yet. Not until I see for myself what happened here." Everyone turned to him, brows high. He gestured toward the pedestal in the corner with his eyes. "Link — place the Sheikah Slate into the console. I must see the Shrine's logs."

For some strange reason, Link's stomach flushed. He had no idea why. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. He made his way over to the pedestal, unhooked the Slate from his belt, and set it into the slot. The pedestal accepted the Slate, twirling it around before nestling it in its heart.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Link requested to the Slate, "Show me the Shrine's logs."

The Slate happily obliged with a chirp. Maz Koshia, Purah, and Symin's eyes bulged when they beheld Link speaking to the device — at it _obeying_ him. They had never seen it react like that, as if it were alive, somehow. Were they not so stunned, they would have taken notes.

Everyone's eyes were drawn to the chandelier-like structure above the broken resurrection pedestal: a Constellation Display. It had begun to glow brighter, dousing them all with bright red light. With a chime, the Display flashed, unfurling a holographic web of Sheikah text that painted the walls.

Link marveled for a moment before his eyes sifted through the glyphs adrift around him. There were thousands upon thousands of entries of the Shrine's patients, listed back for millennia. It was incredible beholding so much raw data in one place. But one particular entry caught Link's eye. The dates listed on this set were recent, roughly one hundred years prior. And it read his name.

"That one?" Link asked, his heart fluttering.

"Yes — that one," Maz Koshia confirmed.

"Wait, you can read ancient Sheikah?!" Symin gaped.

"Y-yeah — I don't know how, but I can," Link replied. He had never given it a second thought before, but he didn't have time to at the moment.

"Interesting…" the monk mused. "I can't turn my head… what does it say?"

Link ran his eyes across the block of text, reading aloud what greeted him:

 _SEASON OF DIN. 30th DAY. 11:16 PM._

 _User login: Director Purah_

 _Confirmed. Patient received: Link. Hylian._

 _Analyzing… … …_

 _Diagnosis confirmed. Begin remedial sequence…_

"That was the day we brought you here," Purah murmured. "I-I remember this..."

Link turned to look at her, swallowing a lump in his throat. When she caught him staring, she immediately averted her gaze. Link's brows furrowed. But he was unable to get a word out before Maz Koshia urged him, "Keep reading — what else?"

Pulling his gaze from Purah, he continued.

 _SEASON OF DIN. 31st DAY. 12:44 AM._

 _Patient expiry._

 _Begin embalming sequ —_ _Ḙ͎͖͌͛͟͞͞R͇̰̍͞ř̬̗̩̪́͆͂or_

 _Tracert User:_ _0͕͊1̟͈͚̦͋̋̏̊1̘͈̊͛0͈̟̍͂0̬͑1͇͑1̕͢1͎̦̎̔͜͡0̪̪̪̰̯̓͑̀͛̊1̛͔10̭̤̔̀͠ͅ0̹͔͐̋0̤̃0̮͊1̜̩̔͂̓͢0̛̭͕̜͍̀̄̀1̢̙͈̊̈̋1͚͞0̛̮1͇̒1̯̭̯̌̐̄1̦͈̫͗̈͊0̫̻̂̀͢͞0͖̙̓̀͋ͅ1̪͓̐̈1̢̻̝͊̕͝0͡ͅ1̡̭̯͈̣͛̃̉͊͠1̡̺̠̳͐̌̂͘11͖̫͘͘0͓̙̽͌͠ͅ1̞͖͛̆1̺̎0̲̲̈̀1̢̡̤̆̔̾1͈̏1̛͇̹͎͂͐͗͢0̪́͆͜_

 _̼͍̬̥̲̃̍̀̕͡/̡̧͓̏̂́͟͡/S̟̱͋̊C̙̗̓͑H͇̬̎̀Ṯ̛͕̜̽̊A̖̝̔͢͠͞S̢̼̘̦̰̊͛̃͆̎K͓̙͎̜̂̀͑̏/̣̞̬̎͗̂/̡͔̖̲̣̣̙͚̜͐͑̅̑̌̒͊͞͞0̝͖̏̕1͍̯̬̠͚͋̔̽̈͠0̠̰̺̅̃̊͟͡0̡͙̺̙̀̍̕͠1̪͉̐̓̄͜00̺̜̭̎̌̑1̭͙̑̃0̱̗̗̠̏̈́̏͠1̨̥̦̔͐͞1̟̪̔̀0̗̏1̥̻̘̳̓͛̃͡1̧̤͑͝1̲̪̉̆0͕̈0̪̊1̹͂1̖̖͖̝̈̉̕͜͠͡0̡̧̬̫̬̊͋̅̄͒0̯͔̮̙͌̐̀̚0̭̽̈́͗͢͢͠ͅ1̩̖͎̒̽̍̆͟1͍͓͎͉̓̌͂̒̿͟0̨̙̘̔̇̉1͊͜1͍̐1̖͚͓̟̊̉̌͂0̪͎͙̖̃̾̕̕1̭͍̻̻͛͋̈͞0̛̻̟͇̽͝1͓̫̌̈0̞͒11̨̪̭̦͂̀͌̈́00̳̹̳̤̉̆̔͡0̡̛͓̩̼͛̑̕1̼̪̙͚͓͆̄̅̿͊0̢̀̌ͅ0̣̞̃͘1̼̲͕̞̳͛̐̇̍̍1͇̲̾͑͊͢0̡̋0̱͛0̮̣͓̋̾͡0̮͓̮̤̻̓̃̽͘͡1̢̩͓̳̔̇̈͞0̝̮͚̉͑͝1̬͖̭̎̿̽11̳̔0̡̧̯̳̒͂͘͡1̪̖̹̫̤̄̈́̎̍͠0̡̭͎̲͒̈͂͌0͇̖̆̿0̫͡1̙̞̉̑1̭̮̀͑̊ͅ0̬̘͒͊͑ͅ0̭̼̏̆1̬͌0̢̖͖̩̓͛͐̚̕ͅ1͍̾_̻̟͖́̔̈͌ͅ0̨̼̙͔̅͊̍̒1̳͚̦́͗͋00̽͟1̟͑͋͜1̹̬̫̯̝͗̊̆̿̿0̧̠͚̭͂͗͐̅1̪͗01̢̙͈̾̕͞1̑͟0̙̟̼̀̂͠0͈̥̾̀0̖̥͊͝0̘͉̲̅̑͡1̲̠͍̈́̎͘0̡̥̝̤͛̈́̇̏̚͜1̖̠̘̋̐̇1̣̈́͘͢0̦̗̱͋͌͞1̘̐1͉̈0̬͖̅͠0̠̺̀̑0͖̀1̡̨̲̪̔̇̽̕1̡͔̜͍̄͋͋́͒͟0͙͓̒̐1̙̣͔̖̭͊̏̇̾̊0̼̗̜͆̂̃͊͜0̡̳̳͇̓͒̂͛1̭̫̩̬̃̏̀͊͜͞01̖̈́͜͞1̢͚̗͑̿͝͠ͅ0̹͒0̖̠̇́͞ͅ0̥͚̻͉̌̊̈͞1̧͖͐̓͢͞1̧͓͈̓̎̏̅ͅ0̨̘̦͛͗̎̕ͅ1̛̹1̢̞̩͔͆̍͊͞0̨̬͕̒̿̐0̱͊1̳͖̄̇0̛̛̭̞̗́1̧͙̫̺̺̿̀͗̿̈͊͜/̺̘̈́̿/̬̯̳͙̮̻̬̗̔͋̌͐̈́̀͛͘0͕̮̂̾̽͟1̡̑0͚̒0͇͙̜͂̒͂1͈͙̭̾̃̅0͓̪͛͑0̫̊1̧̧̛̬̭͇͆̈́̃͠0͖͇̯̠̎̄̿͊1̧͔͈́̔̒1͈̻̌̔̅͜0͙̤͎͇̟̔̀̆̇͘1̘͎̥͂̒͞1̗̥͂͂10̮̫̣̬̐̒̀̔0͕̰͆̍1̙̪̇̉10̺͉̪͕̀̈́̊͆0͍̓0͍̲͐̉1̧͖͓͕̯̐̆̏͗̚1̫̤͙̀̓̔01̦̥̬̇͛͊1͉̫̞̽̀͛1̡̤̔̒́͜0̦͙̼͋̚͡1̥̺̣̋̓͘0̨͔̖̣͌̄͆̚1͉͈̓͗0̬͈͓̰̻̃̏̃͗͝1̨̼͌̆1͇̌0̨̗̈̇̈̏͜͢0̰̃0̥͛1͎̳̈̉0̖̙̞̎̃̔0̱̩́̕1̡͔͔̋̏̋1̼͓̂̂0͍̙̳́̽͘0̟͓̰̖̈́̈́̚͝0̩̣̥̀̃͒0͍̯̭̿̓͡1̳̤̼̝̇̃͋͋0̣͓͉͈̓͊͂́1̪͊1̆͜1̥̳͔̭̩͑̌̄̏͝0͙̊1͎̹̼̈́͛͘0̛͕̥̖́̆0̫̲͚̝̓̇̃̾0̧̛̥̹͕̐̑͠1̼̻̑̕1̙̼̯̃̊́0̧́0̧̲̈̅̄͢1̧͇̱̃͋̚0̲̞͍̿͌́1̖̟͈̯͎͈͆͛̀̿͌͒͒͜/̢̩̘͉͗̐͋̏/̭͎͓̘̳̜̭́̉̍͊̐̊̌̿ͅ0͎̚1̳͖̯̬̀̅͊͝1̰̊0̧̟̻͒̿̒0̢͍̯̯́̓͂̉̕͢1̤͎͎̹̓̏͋͘0͙͚̾̔̿͟1̧̻̰̠̀̋̎͒01̡̰͆̎1̧̮̠̔̀͊1̺̹̠̾͌̾͜͝1͎̿0͎̳̗̎́̀̕ͅ0̪̼̿́̂͘͟ͅ0̧͔̀́0̥̝́͆1͍̽1͚͍̬̾̆͝0̣̒0̙̯̇͊1̘͔͉͊̚͠0͇͊1͍̺̀͊0̞͂1̧̧͓̝͓͋̏͋̕͝1̱̓̀͢0̩̔0͕̺̓̀́ͅ0̭̻̪̭̐́͒́͠ͅ1̧̼͚͌͌́10̨̡̪̉̋̽1̨̜̺̜̜̉̍̾̂̎1̻̩̽̈̎ͅ1̫͎̀͆0̖͎͇̥̉̓̃͛1̡̤̘̣͑̉̀͘0̨̛̞̇1͔̳̘̅̄͘0̧̨͌́1̬̰̗͈͛̄́̌1͉̳̽͝1̧̠̩͆̐̎0̖̝͙̬̃͐̉͒10̭̓̊͜0̯͌0̤̦͂͘1̍ͅ1͋͢0̧̲͚͍̅̀́̎0̮̆1̻́̉͟0̨̧̨͎̇̏͘͡1̗̲̙͇͎̠̬̥͊̓̎͐͊̋̿̕_

Link didn't make it past _expiry_ before his heart completely stopped.

"Expiry?!" he choked, turning to his companions. "Expiry — wh-what does that mean?!"

But they weren't listening. Their eyes were wide as dinner plates, their faces totally drained of color… and they were all staring at Link.

" _Nayru's Love…!"_ Maz Koshia breathed.

A burst of feral panic gored a hole in Link's stomach. His skin crawled beneath their gazes. Why weren't they answering him?! Breath surging, he whirled on Maz Koshia, screaming, "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!"

The monk swallowed hard. "Link, you — !" he began.

Maz Koshia suddenly plunged into a coughing fit before he could finish his sentence. It was a wet, hacking cough, powerful enough to jerk his head forward. His bones ground in his neck, his chest heaving, but the rest of his body remained motionless.

"M-Maz?!" Link gasped.

Symin snapped out of his daze, rushing to try to settle the monk's struggling. But he couldn't risk moving him — not with his injuries. Symin shook his head, stating, "He can't breathe — we need to get him back to the lab, _now!"_

"Nnn-o!" Maz Koshia stammered between coughs. "R-read the r-est!"

"But — " Symin tried to say. But the monk cut him off with another throttled rebuttal, his eyes imploring Link to keep reading.

Sweat had begun to stream down Link's neck. Heart slamming into his ribs, he wrenched his eyes from Maz Koshia and back to the data. Maybe there was something else there?! But no, everything below the line he had read was pure nonsense, the glyphs jumbled and broken.

Apart from one word, near the bottom, wedged amidst the chaos: _reanimate._ The word sent a shiver down Link's spine. He found with another pang of panic that that command had been logged over a month before the current date.

"All I can read is _reanimate,"_ Link flustered, his voice breaking. Maz Koshia gave a guttural gag. "W-what does all this mean?! I don't understand!"

"We'll figure that out later! We need to get him treated _now!"_ Symin commanded above the monk's coughing. "C'mon, Link, warp us to the lab!"

Link wanted answers — he was starved for them — but Maz Koshia's coughing was worsening. He was beginning to choke. They couldn't delay. Link flew over to the pedestal, yanking the Slate from it. He brought it up to his face, practically shouting at it, "Take us to the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab!"

The Slate served its master with pleasure. Almost immediately, crimson light seeped out of the device, coating Link's fingertips. A familiar sensation crept over his body. He had learned his lesson from his last warp; he pinched his eyes shut, holding on for dear life as the light consumed him before spreading to Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah.

In an instant, they were whisked away from the Shrine and placed onto a stone marker in the grass at the lab's doorstep. This time, Link managed to maintain a better hold of himself upon reforming, staying upright. He had only a second to register that the warp had been successful before his attention was jerked toward Maz Koshia, who lay at his feet, suffocating.

Symin ordered Link to grab the monk's ankles while he cradled his neck and head. Meanwhile, Purah scampered ahead of them, throwing open the doors to the lab and clearing a path. Link hesitated for only a second, his gaze flying from the monk's bare feet to the Malice coating his own arm. He worried it would further burn Maz Koshia. But, stowing his fears, he grabbed the monk's ankles and helped Symin lift him.

As tall as he was, Maz Koshia hardly weighed anything; he was mostly bone and leathery skin, making transporting him easy. Even so, his sporadic coughing and the damage to his neck slowed Symin and Link down considerably. Being as gentle as they could, Symin instructed Link to bring the monk onto the raised stage, where they flipped him over to a kneeling position. Minding his neck, they draped him, face-down, across the pedestal beneath the Guidance Stone.

Purah wasted no time firing up her Slate Lite, programming the Guidance Stone to analyze him. The great stone stalactite above began to glow. Now that the monk was upright, Symin was able to help him get up whatever he was choking on. Link stepped away as Symin began to thrust his palm against the monk's back. Link's eyes flickered from Symin, to the Guidance Stone, and finally down to Maz Koshia's feet, where, sure enough, his fears had come to light. A ring of melted skin marred the monk's ankle, exposing part of his heel.

Link didn't get the chance to fret over it, for Maz Koshia gave a sudden, sickening retch, his spine twisting. Something splattered against the stage, but Link couldn't see what it was. Symin blocked it from his view.

Everyone froze. The only sound in the air was the monk's scratchy gasping as he savored his breath. The three Sheikah all stared at whatever he had coughed up, their faces going ashen. Purah and Symin exchanged a horrified glance before Symin turned around, gazing upon Link as if he had just crawled out of a grave.

"Y-you should leave," he stammered.

Link took another step back, jaw dropping. "What?! No — no, I'm not leaving!" His voice grew more strained and desperate the more he begged for answers. "I've been in the dark long enough, I _need_ to know what's going on! That's what I came here, for! Please, just tell me!"

Symin looked about to be sick. Turning away from Link, he shook his head, gripping the pedestal. "I can't do that."

Link's eyes blazed in their sockets. " _Why NOT?!"_

Symin recoiled, pursing his lips. He shook his head again. "I just can't," he repeated. It was _infuriating._

Link rapidly grew frantic. He couldn't stop himself. His mind, somewhat stabilized after his outburst in the Shrine, began to fracture again. His blood boiled with corrosive panic.

"Don't do this to me! Please, what happened to me in the Shrine?!" Link shouted. "Tell me SOMETHING! PLEASE!"

As he pelted the Sheikah before him with questions, he was oblivious to the Malice on his arm as it began to seethe, glowing brighter. Purah noticed the curdling of his Malice first. Symin and Maz Koshia followed. They both stiffened. Meanwhile, Purah's face contorted into a mask of terror.

There was a brief, intense pause. Link's desperation hung in the air, but nobody was saying anything. He stared at them all, struggling to comprehend what was happening. But in spite of the disarray in his mind, he knew this: they all knew something he didn't. And it was driving him absolutely mad.

Before he could process what he was doing, he stomped toward them, throwing his arms out. "WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME?!"

A sudden jolt of pain lanced straight through Link's chest, piercing his heart and stealing his breath. He dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, doubling over as it boiled and throbbed beneath his grip. An inexplicable chill slithered up his spine, chattering his teeth. Everyone watched in transfixed horror as his Malice spread to his neck, oozing across his shoulder greedily.

The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one even breathed. Not until a whimper burst out of Purah. Everyone's gaze was torn from Link and to her as she scrambled away from them and cowered against the wall. She covered her eyes, crumbling into sobs.

Link's blood iced over as he stared, emptily, at the poor girl. "...Purah...?" he whispered.

She retreated further into herself, shaking her head wildly.

Time seemed to stop for Link. In reality, he only beheld her for a brief second. He was helpless to withstand the complete reversal of his mental state, succumbing to the degradation of his resolve. His heart shriveled inside him, dissolving into his body until he could no longer feel… anything. Not his heart bashing itself senseless against his ribs, not his head swimming from his nonexistent breath, not the erratic pulsations of his Malice. In that moment, he didn't even feel human.

How could he? He wasn't. Not anymore.

And then it hit him, like a mountain crashing on his head. Dear god… what was he doing? What was he becoming? In the dark confines of his head, something stirred, something that knew _exactly_ what he was becoming. It was as plain as the horror in Purah's eyes.

"Link," came a voice, cutting through the heavy air.

Link was pulled out of himself and to Maz Koshia. He still knelt beneath the Guidance Stone, his arms dangling worthlessly at his sides. But his eye was honed in on Link — and only Link. Purah and Symin may as well have been nonexistent. The monk held him in an iron grip, latching onto his very soul, it seemed. Link shuddered, drenched in an all-encompassing dread as he knelt, paralyzed, before the monk.

But his following words were not delivered to strike him down for his monstrous actions. No, they were earnest, raw, imploring. Weak, even.

"Listen to me," Maz Koshia began. "I know you're scared... I'm scared, too. More than I have ever been in all my life…" His eyes pinched. "But we will conquer this. Together. You have to believe that."

Link's brain had gone numb. He had no idea how to respond. But he couldn't have even if he wanted to. His throat was cinched too tight to allow anything other than a wisp of breath out. All he could do was hold onto his Malice, staring into Maz Koshia's eyes.

Maz Koshia held him firmly in his ancient gaze. "Do you trust me, hero?" he asked him.

A painful pause. How could he call him that?

" _Yes,"_ Link whispered.

"Then trust me when I say that... we will figure this out. We will talk later. About everything. I promise." Swallowing, Maz Koshia continued, beseeching him, "For now… _you must calm down._ Your fear is _feeding_ it." Link's grip on his Malice tightened. Sweat crawled down his face.

"Take some time…" Maz Koshia continued. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid it's not ideal, but you… you cannot stay. It's for the best."

Symin, his head bowed, murmured, "There's a small lake nearby."

"Go there, Link. It will be all right," Maz Koshia said, offering him as much of a reassuring smile as he could muster. Link only then noticed that something dark was running out of his mouth. But the monk didn't acknowledge it, urging him further, "Go. Please. We will discuss everything… later."

Link didn't argue. He didn't have the strength or dexterity to. Not anymore. His fear and panic had devastated his body beyond reaction. He gave no mental input into his movements. Something seemed to carry his empty body along as he swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. Without a word, Link turned and stumbled out of the lab, glazed eyes fixed into nothing as he went.

The doors slammed shut behind him. He sucked in a strangled gasp, his eyes stinging.

He couldn't go back. Not yet, so the monk had said. So Link shuffled across the grass. He made it as far as the hillside, where he stopped at the edge. Below him, nestled atop the cliff, lay a curved, glittering lake, trees lining its banks. An island sat at the heart of the lake, its sole occupant a colossal oak tree. It was a peaceful spot. Under fairer circumstances, Link would have appreciated it better. But not now. It was merely the place he was being sent to to relax. His legs dragged him toward it.

Link didn't even register the trip over to the lake. He was just suddenly… there. He sunk to his knees at the water's edge. Bathed in the cool shade of a tree, a passing breeze tousled his hair, but he couldn't feel it. Even his tough, sinewy Malice he couldn't feel as he unconsciously crushed it till his fingers locked up. He remained still for a while, staring across the water.

 _Relax,_ Maz Koshia had begged of him. _Relax._ The word didn't even sound real.

How could he even begin to do that? To relax? After all that had happened? After all the damage he had wreaked — physically, mentally, maybe even spiritually — to him, to Maz Koshia, to Symin… to Purah. The mere concept of relaxing seemed astronomically impossible, even in his unfeeling state. And especially not after the things he had learned that day.

What had he learned…?

The brief moments he had spent reading the Shrine's logs had been as enlightening as they were disturbing. They had served their purpose, yes, but he couldn't for the life of him comprehend what he had read.

 _Patient expiry._

Before, he had been too frantic to fully internalize what those words meant. But not then. The silence dominating his mind paved the way for clearer, more rational thought. And as he allowed those thoughts to connect, a world-shattering, haunting realization seeped into him, rotting him to his corrupted core.

Patient expiry.

He had died in the Shrine. And Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah had been too horrified to say it.

"Oh my god…" Link breathed.

* * *

 **...Oh no.**

 **Things are starting to get serious! Honestly, I spent most of my revision time trying to really nail a panic attack. I haven't personally experienced them, but I wanted to drive home just how frantic and terrified Link gets in this chapter - multiple times! I can't imagine how horrible it is to experience that level of fear. To all you who suffer from panic attacks, I commend you. You are braver and stronger than you think you are.**

 **I also hope this chapter wasn't too much all at once. I worry sometimes my writing might get too angsty in places, and I personally hate reading it when it gets too intense. Let me know if you think I should dial it down a few notches. Either way, I hope I conveyed Link's pain and struggles here. He certainly hasn't seen the end of things, yet. Poor kid! Him and his companions are about to be put through some _stuff._**

 **Ooh, I really hope the glitchy text from the corrupted Shrine logs displays correctly! I used another word processor so I hope things show like they should. I hid a little message in there. If you're eagle-eyed, maybe you can decipher it? :) I'll happily answer any questions (without spoiling anything) to anyone who cracks it. Good luck!**

 ****Serious talk for a second, here. Friends, the world is a scary place. It's getting worse every day. Often, I find myself overwhelmed by all the problems and paranoia and fear out there. This may sound silly, but I've come to realize that this story has helped me to internalize some of my anxieties and put them on paper so I can understand them better. Granted, I don't suffer from corruption via a centuries-old demon, but we all have our battles we fight. I hope that this story is as much entertaining and interesting for you as it is therapeutic for me. Time and time again, it has been a welcome means of escapism for me, and I hope it can be the same for you.**

 **So thank you so much for reading! I hope you continue on this journey with me and that you enjoy it as it progresses. Poor Link... He's got quite a road ahead of him, and I can't wait to bring you along. We're just scratching the surface, here.**

 **If you have any predictions, ideas, concerns, critiques, I welcome them! Also, if you need to vent to someone about all the craziness in the world, hit me up. I've got your back.**

 **Until next chapter, friends. Stay strong, stay healthy, stay happy. :)**

 **\- Sammy**


	17. The Contingency Plan

**Hey, party people!**

 **You want it, you got it - another chapter of Corrupted Hero. And it didn't take me a month to write this time! I promise, I'll do my best to stick to a schedule. I'm going to aim for biweekly updates, so stay tuned! :)**

 **Man, this one was a joy to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved putting it to paper. It's nice and long, too, so get settled in. Trust me, it'll make you feel things. And, might I add, give you some long-awaited answers! ;)**

 **Before I go, I just want to say thank you, one and all, returning fans and brand-new readers. You really make my day when I see that you have read this piece. Thank you for tuning in and supporting me! You mean the world to me, you really do. I hope you're liking what you're reading. And hey, since we're all pretty much stuck at home, why not give you something to read, right? It's my pleasure to entertain. :)**

 **Oh, and quick shout out to Oracle of Hylia for pointing out a Hyrulean colloquialism to me that I never thought of before. Thanks for the pro tip! I appreciate it!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was well past noon when the doors to the lab finally opened.

Link, still at the lakeside below, didn't notice. He lay on his back beneath a tree, the crook of his arm draped over his eyes. His Malice-slathered hand clung to the scorched grass beneath him in a death grip, thumping softly with his heartbeat. Gluing his jaw shut, he endeavored to ignore it, focusing instead on the whisper of the waves, the birdsong in the air — anything but the poison on his arm and his grim reality looming over his head.

His body may have been still, but he was anything but. His thoughts and anxieties were a hurricane screaming inside his skull. His muscles ached. His stomach churned. His blood frothed. And it was all because of the ghastly realization polluting his mind.

He had died.

And yet, there he was — living, breathing, _agonizing_ over the thought of it. His brain was rending itself apart trying to work out how and why it could have happened — if it was even true. How could it be? Nothing made sense anymore. Link didn't know whether to scream or cry or punch something, but he didn't have the strength for any of it. All he could do was lie there, trembling, as he forced himself to shut out everything he thought he knew.

This, sad as it was, was his best attempt at relaxing — if one could even call it that. He had finally given in to Maz Koshia's request, but his surroundings gave away his earlier attempts to rid himself of his Malice. The Malice that, deep down inside, he knew had something to do with his resurrection. He lay in the center of a chaotic patchwork of charred grass marring the shoreline. Dried magenta blood crusted his ragged fingernails. His bags had been rifled through and thrown aside; blackened branches and chunks of flint littered the ground alongside a few Malice-slicked swords and a bent-out-of-shape frying pan.

He had tried everything. _Everything._ Even relaxation, as Maz Koshia had urged him to. But he had nothing to show for it. Utterly defeated, Link had belted out one final scream of frustration before he dropped to his back.

And that was how they found him — lying amidst the scraps of his own defeat.

Quiet footsteps padded against the grass, growing closer. Link almost didn't hear them — his mind was too full, stifling his hearing. It was only when the footsteps stopped a few feet away that he sensed someone nearby. Ears perking up, he raised his arm, his gaze flying toward his company.

His heart fell stone cold upon seeing them. Symin and Purah stood before him, both looking rather worse for wear. Their silvery buns were loose, flyaway hairs sprouting here and there. Symin's hand was bandaged, and he had taken off his coat. Purah's scarlet eyes were pink and puffy; she hid herself slightly behind Symin's leg. In spite of their haggard appearances, they offered Link soft smiles, both concealing something they had brought along.

Link could barely look at them. He wanted to roll over and hide his face, but he couldn't bring himself to do even that. Instead, he frowned, looking them up and down. He half-wondered what it was they had been up to that required sending him away. He'd been out there for hours.

Symin and Purah's eyes darted around the area, their smiles fading slightly upon taking in the pitiful shreds of Link's endeavors. Eventually, Symin shook it off, refocusing on Link. He took a step forward, putting on another smile for him.

"Hey," he began, keeping his voice light. "We, erm… brought lunch. Thought you might be hungry?" He held out what he and Purah had brought with them: three bamboo bento boxes, faint curls of steam rising from them.

Link blinked. Based on their appearances, he was expecting to hear bad news. Not this. If he stopped to think about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. But that was the very least of his worries. All the same, part of him melted at their kindness; deep down, he needed it. Desperately. But another part of him overshadowed that need, reminding him of his own worth. At the moment, he felt less than the dirt he laid in. He didn't deserve their kindness. Not after what he had done.

Link sighed, turning his gaze away. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry," he dismissed, his voice emotionless.

Symin cocked his head. "You sure?" he said, jiggling the boxes. "Made it myself. My mother's recipe: fried rice and wild greens. Purah threw some homemade candy in there, too." When Link didn't reply, he sighed, coaxing him gently, "You ought to eat something, Link. It'll do you good."

Link didn't want to argue. It just wasn't in him. And it seemed Symin wouldn't take no for an answer. As Link thought it over, the aroma of the food carried over to him, enticing his senses. Earthy mushrooms, sweet, steamed carrots. Fried eggs and salt. It breathed a bit of life into him, rousing his stomach.

In the end, he gave in. He didn't want to battle with his stomach, either. "All right," he relented, easing himself up.

Symin smiled. Gesturing to the ground, he proposed, "Can we sit with you?"

Link hesitated, his sludgy fingers tightening against the grass. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this, but forced himself to go along with it. As long as he kept his emotions in check, he — rather, _they_ — should be fine. He hoped.

Before he could change his mind, Link replied, his voice shaky, "Sure."

He sat up, crossing his legs and his arms, tucking his Malice as close to his body as he could. As he did so, Symin and Purah came around, pushing away a sword or two to give themselves room. Symin sat across from Link. Purah meanwhile, seated herself right beside Symin, a fair distance away from Link. It pulverized his heart. He hadn't forgotten the terror he had struck into her earlier. His head hung, heavy with guilt.

Once they were situated, there was a brief pause. Symin glanced at the objects littered about, his eyes ultimately drifting to the fresh patch of Malice smeared onto Link's neck.

Symin's lips pursed. "No luck, huh?" he asked quietly.

Link's chest tightened, his Malice tensing. He shook his head.

Symin searched through the burned grass, trying to find the right words. "Don't beat yourself up over it." He thought for a moment before adding, "I know that's… easier said than done. This is new for you. It is for all of us. But we'll figure this out, Link."

As he spoke, Link's eyes flicked up toward him. He couldn't fathom how, in the midst of everything that was happening, Symin could be so supportive. So hopeful, reassuring. It was astounding.

Symin went on, "For now, let's just eat, okay? You look like you need it. Here."

He held out one of the bento boxes to Link, offering him another smile above the steaming food. Link shivered for some reason. He carefully took the box from him, ensuring he used his Malice-free hand.

"Thank you," Link murmured.

"You're very welcome."

Link set the box in his lap and faced his meal. It looked and smelled incredible. In one compartment of the box sat a pile of rice tossed with dark, leafy greens, diced carrots, chunks of scrambled eggs, and meaty mushroom slices. In another, a handful of amber-colored pearls of hard candy. They smelled sweet, like honey. A pair of chopsticks sat on the side, awaiting him.

"All right, well, eat up — if you like it," Symin mused.

The three of them ate in silence. Whether it was because the food was wonderful or they were avoiding conversation was unclear. Link's head hung during their meal, his eyes staring into nothing as he ate in an almost robotic fashion. Thankfully, the food was a welcome distraction from the harrowing thoughts that swirled in his skull. But he couldn't escape them forever. When he was able to see the bottom of his bento box, his mind began storming again.

He set his chopsticks down. Symin and Purah gradually put down their utensils as well, awaiting something. Only they weren't sure what. There was a long stretch of silence as Link stared into the lingering grains of rice in his box, the food sitting like a rock in his stomach.

"...Is it true?" he finally croaked out.

Symin and Purah exchanged a split-second glance. "Is what true?" Symin asked.

Link's shoulders sagged. He wondered, his voice weak, "Did I die in the Shrine?"

Symin and Purah visibly cringed. It took Symin a moment to gather his thoughts and pull himself together. He sighed, his eyes falling to the grass. "...The Shrine's logs pointed to that, yes," he muttered solemnly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We thought you might put that one together…"

So it was true, then. Goddesses above, it was true. Link's spine rattled as the thought of it seeped like poison deep into his psyche, curdling his blood. All at once, his body felt foreign to him, uncomfortable, like he had been forced inside it. Shoving away the gruesome thought, he swallowed down a wave of nausea that spontaneously bubbled up in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose.

" _Why didn't you tell me?"_ he murmured.

"I…" Symin began to say. But he cut himself off as he beheld Link before him — shaking, his eyes aglow with pain. Symin sighed again, grasping for words. "I didn't know how to say it," he mourned.

Symin tore his gaze away from Link and to Purah for support, but she lowered her head. Wetting his lips, Symin admitted, "We didn't handle things very well back there. _W-we,_ not _you,_ Link. You reacted as well as we all would have if we were in your shoes." He shook his head, forcing himself to look Link in the eye. "We had no idea things would turn out like this. We should have handled things better and for that, Link, I'm sorry — on behalf of all of us."

Link and Symin stared at each other for a moment before Link's heavy head fell into his hands. Part of him was washed with bittersweet relief at the confirmation of his fears. The news wasn't comforting by any means, but it was a welcome, solid fact as he drowned in a sea of questions. Symin's sincere words somehow managed to touch him as well, breaking through his disturbing reality. He truly meant what he said, and Link could tell that Purah and Maz Koshia meant it as well, even if they weren't saying it themselves.

Link fully understood that this wasn't their fault, though the notion of it all still sickened him. But he knew that _he_ had blame in the matter. His emotions had gotten the best of him, and that had nearly cost him his allies. It nearly cost Maz Koshia his life. Symin may not have blamed him for his reactions, but Link did. He owed his due apologies — and more — for flying off the handle as badly as he had.

"I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," Link said, a pang of regret stinging his heart. "You didn't deserve to be yelled at. I just… I-I couldn't even think… I'm sorry, too. For everything."

"It's okay. Given what you're going through, I don't blame you for it," Symin reassured him. "No one does." He held Link's eyes earnestly, asking, "Can you forgive us for failing you?"

A frown found Link's lips. He shook his head, stating, "You didn't fail me, Symin. It's… it's all right."

Symin's shoulders relaxed. "I'm very glad to hear you say that," he breathed. "I promise you, we'll figure this out. Together. And from now on, no more secrets." He paused, swallowing. He exchanged a glance with Purah, their eyes hardening. Symin then turned back to Link, reiterating, "No more secrets, no matter how bad they are."

Link wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but he was thankful that that was on the table, now. Ultimately, he was just relieved that, despite everything, the bridge between them hadn't been as thoroughly destroyed as he imagined. He had no idea what he would do without them, especially considering recent developments. He might have been in much, much worse shape if he didn't have the Sheikah on his side.

His relief was short-lived, however. Link's eyes fell to his Malice as it lay in his lap, his brow furrowing. "What does it all mean, then? I don't understand it."

Symin scratched his head. "We were actually wanting to discuss that together," he said, his eyes drifting to the hilltop above them. "Once we get your biometrics back, we'll have a bit of a better picture to work with. But it's still in the works... We'll just have to wait for it in the meantime. But when we have it, we'll get to work cracking this." He snorted. "It's been quite a morning — we could all use a bit of a break until then, I think."

It only then dawned on Link that, indeed, he had only met Symin and Purah that morning. It felt like a century ago. So much had happened already — and it was only in the afternoon. He had no idea what else awaited them as the day went on. He was almost afraid to face it. But he had allies, now. He had friends, people that understood him — for better or worse. Perhaps facing whatever came, alongside them, wouldn't prove too unbearable. He supposed he would just have to find out.

"All right," Link agreed softly, nodding.

Conversation faltered, then. They all stared at the grass, unsure of how to go on. They didn't have much else to do but wait for the data to come back. As they sat for a moment in silence, Symin's eyes drifted toward Purah. She squirmed where she sat, wringing her hands as if she wanted to say something. But she kept whatever-it-was bottled up. Feeling Symin's gaze, she glanced up. He gave her a pitied look. They both turned their gazes upon Link, watching him as he stared emptily into his Malice, his mind clouded.

For a few long seconds, Purah sat, clenching her little fists. Gathering her voice, she spat out, "Symin — can you give us a minute?"

Link and Symin jumped at her words, Link's head snapping up. Symin, brows raised, gave a slow nod. "I'll, er, go wash up," he said, gathering up the bento boxes and utensils. His eyes lingered upon Link for a second before he got to his feet, swiveling. He proceeded to walk around the edge of the shore toward the far side of the lake, leaving the two of them alone.

When his footsteps had faded away, a tremendous blanket of silence smothered Link and Purah. It was almost palpable. Neither of them spoke for what felt like ages as their gazes wandered between everything but each other. Link, his skin itching, eventually snuck a peek at Purah — her lips were pressed into a thin line, sweat beading on her forehead. Something was eating her up inside.

Just as he was about to ask her what was wrong, she finally broke her silence.

"I was there that day," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Link blinked, his brow furrowing. "What?" he wondered.

She kept her gaze fixed into the grass. Her eyes swam with memory, her face twisted against the images piercing her mind. "I was there," she repeated. "At the castle, the day this all started."

Link's heart gave two nervous thumps before she took in a deep breath and poured out her anxieties upon him, spiriting him away to that dreadful day.

"It had been like any other day," she began. "We were out on the lawn, doing routine Guardian testing. Things were looking promising; they were moving, they were… _alive._ It was amazing." Her eyes glittered with fondness at the memory before she suddenly winced. "One minute, everything was fine, and the next… the ground st-started to shake. At our feet, this… _darkness…_ gushed out of the grass, like the earth was _bleeding._ It became this huge shadow, swirling around the castle — it blotted out the sun."

Her voice began to shake as she went on, "It didn't take me long to realize what was happening, but I still couldn't believe it. And then... that roar — " She shrunk in on herself, her hands flying to her ears. " _Goddess,_ that roar. It's haunted me for a hundred years. I hear it in my sleep, sometimes. The beast… he l-latched onto the Guardians — made them _his."_ She gulped. Hard. She then whispered, her voice tiny, "And then they came for us."

Ice shot into Link's blood as he listened. He remembered envisioning this harrowing story when King Rhoam had told him of the Great Calamity, but this… this was so much worse, for some reason. Link suddenly found his mind surging with flashes of smog-choked skies, raging fires. Hulking shadows ravaging a township. But he couldn't tell if he was truly remembering or just imagining it all.

But Purah remembered. The mere act of retelling it was ripping her apart. She stammered, her body shaking, "All at once, everything I had done for the kingdom — all of my research, all of my service… it was _worthless._ The relics I had loved so much became killing machines that I couldn't control." She pinched her eyes shut. "I watched them annihilate countless people. Neighbors, colleagues, friends… families. Knights. Men. Women, children. _Everyone._ They were incinerated. Trampled. Mauled. There were just… _rivers_ of blood everywhere I stepped."

Link couldn't help but flinch, disturbed at the morbid images plaguing his mind. Purah wilted, releasing a strangled breath. "The bodies piling in the streets...," she choked out. "I ran across them to get away. I wasn't a scientist, anymore, I was a child. A coward. Hylia forgive me — I ran."

The heavy air weighed upon them more heavily than before, absolutely crushing them into the grass. Neither of them moved or spoke for a long, painful moment. Purah eventually dragged her bloodshot, tear-filled gaze up to Link. She gaped at him as if seeing him for the first time, eyes wide as she scoured his bone mask, his third eye, the Malice coating his arm. Link stiffened, his heart racing.

"And you don't remember a thing," Purah gasped. "I envy you, Link, I really do. I wish I could forget what I saw that day." She shivered, hugging herself. "I… I wish I could forget what I saw in the Shrine... W-when I saw that stuff — that _poison_ — burst out of you, I just — I was _there,_ again. Helpless. Watching them all die. W-watching Maz Koshia — !"

She broke off, her lungs hitching as an onslaught of horror tore through her. Unable to hold herself together any longer, her voice shattered, her words spilling out of her, "I got so scared, I-I couldn't even look at you — I know it's n-not your fault, but I couldn't do it. You didn't deserve that! To be treated like that _beast!_ I'm sorry — I'm so sorry, Link!"

Purah crumbled into sobs, tears flooding down her face. Link's heart crushed into nothing as he watched her completely unravel. Without thinking, he got to his knees and crawled over to her, gingerly reaching out with his normal hand in efforts to comfort her.

"Purah…"

He never got the chance to even touch her before she threw herself into his side. She buried her face in his tunic, clinging to it. His throat clenching, he tucked her closer, holding her tight while she broke down in his embrace.

So that was why she had been so skittish. A stab of guilt pierced Link at the realization that he had played a part in rekindling her bottled-up fears. Her fears of Calamity Ganon. Tears stung his eyes, but he soldiered through them. He didn't know what to say to comfort the poor girl. He could barely process all that she had told him. What she had seen… nobody should have had to bear. Not for a day. Certainly not for a hundred years.

All he could do was let her cry it out. As he cradled her, he didn't for one second hold her frightened treatment of him against her. He completely understood her reasons. When he finally found his voice, he murmured, "It's okay, Purah… I would have done the same thing. I'm sorry you had to go through that..."

Purah hiccoughed, sniffling. She pulled her face out of his sodden tunic, looking up at him through the tears smeared against her glasses. "You shouldn't be sorry. You went through it, too."

"I know. But I can't remember it — you said it yourself," Link replied, his voice low. "I hate that I can't remember. I wish that I could." Purah blinked at that. Link's gaze fell upon his Malice, a scowl finding his brow. "I wish I could remember what I did wrong."

Purah looked hurt. "Link, w-what are you saying? You did nothing wrong. You fought. Hard. It was… just too much."

He shook his head. "No, _something_ went wrong. Maybe if I knew what it was, maybe then we would know what to do…?" He closed his Malice-laced fingers into a fist. "Maybe then… I wouldn't be like this — I wouldn't have scared you."

Purah reared back a little, looking upon him with a disturbed sense of shock. She wiped at her eyes. "Link, we had no way of knowing that… _this_ would happen," she said, gesturing to his Malice. "He took us by surprise. You're not to blame for this."

Link snorted. Something came over him, then — doubts began to creep out from the corners of his mind, darkening his thoughts. "You sure about that?" he murmured. Purah's brows raised. Link frowned. "You saw those logs. I died in that Shrine, Purah. I failed. W-what if I didn't want to fight anymore? What if I just gave up? What if I let this happen?"

She shook her head. "You don't know that, Link."

"You don't either."

"Yes, I do," she retaliated. She poked his chest, reaffirming, "I know it because that isn't like you. I knew you." Link stiffened at her words. Blinking rapidly, Purah corrected herself, "I mean — I _know_ you, Link. You wouldn't just let this happen. You're not a quitter. Not then, not now. I mean, you're _here,_ aren't you? If you weren't… then that would mean you _had_ given up."

Link paused to consider that. In spite of all the obstacles that had stacked up against him, he _had_ made the strides to get where he was. He had risen from the Shrine of Resurrection. He had listened to King Rhoam's wishes. He had fought a Yiga Clan member, traveled with a monk. Now, he was working alongside the Sheikah to understand his… condition. After all of that, he certainly couldn't say he had given up, could he?

"I guess that makes sense…" Link murmured.

He began to feel a glimmer of hope, but it was fleeting. A darker part of him was unconvinced. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance before Link turned away, his doubts creeping in further as he strained to think back, to possibly find some shred of memory to prove — or disprove — his fears.

Purah, growing concerned at his cynicism, reached up and pulled his face back toward hers, searching through it. Her eyes then trailed down him, past his Malice, until they landed on his tunic. Reaching out her hand, she pressed it into his side till he could feel her palm against his skin. Her touch gave him goosebumps.

She smiled faintly at his warmth, the gentle rising of his ribs as he breathed. "You're here... It's still _you,"_ she said tenderly. She peered into his glowing eyes. "You're still our Champion, Link. No matter what happens."

He swallowed the bitter taste coating his mouth. "You really believe that?" he murmured.

"I do," she replied. "And you should, too. You could stand to believe in yourself a bit, hero. We do. _She_ does."

Link's heart fluttered. He knew who she meant. How could he forget? His shoulders fell. "...I know," was all he could manage.

Purah gave him a small smile and bumped his elbow with her fist. "Chin up, then, Linky. Things may be… kinda scary… but that doesn't mean it's over. Not yet. Not while you're still kicking. We'll make it through. We'll beat this."

Link's heart warmed at that. "Thanks, Purah," he murmured. "I think I needed to hear that..."

"Anytime, hero," she replied sweetly. Sighing, she added, "Thanks for listening."

Link smiled at her. "Anytime, Director."

Their exchange had, somehow, both soothed and exhausted them both. They sat in silence for a while, listening to nature around them. Link went quiet, his eyes on the water. As he found himself lost in the echoes of their conversation, Purah unconsciously ran her finger against his tunic, along a distinct, raised line of threading that neither of them had noticed.

Purah's brows crinkled as the threading began to jog her memory. "Huh," she mused, peering closer at it. "I don't remember this."

Link blinked himself out of his daze. "Remember what?" he asked, his gaze finding her hand where it rested on his abdomen, slightly above his hip bone.

"This, right here," she said, pointing it out to him. It was a long line of threadwork, several inches in length, the same cerulean as his tunic. "This used to be completely shredded. Looks like my sister patched it up. She did a pretty good job, actually."

Link blinked again. His brain had begun to itch for some reason. In the back of his mind, he remembered Impa mentioning that she had kept his tunic for safekeeping. Since she was the one who gave it to him, Purah's words made sense. The more he thought on it, the more the fragments of the past began to click together in his mind. Purah said that she didn't remember the repair work Impa had done. If Impa kept the tunic after the Great Calamity and repaired it then, then that would mean that Purah was one of the last ones to see the tunic in its ruined state.

"...You were the one who brought me to the Shrine of Resurrection, right?" Link wondered, squinting.

"Yeah. Me and Robbie, an old colleague of mine," Purah replied. "When you were brought to us in Kakariko, you were in miserable shape. You were covered in blood and dirt, but the worst of it was _there."_ She poked the stitchwork again, her head cocking. "Not sure what happened to you, but I'm impressed Impa managed to get all the blood out. It was bad."

As Purah spoke, Link's head suddenly began to swim. But before he had the chance to process the information swishing around in his mind, a sudden chirp sounded from Purah. They both jumped, their attentions flying to her back.

"What was that?" Link wondered.

Her eyes went wide. She shimmied her arms out of the field bag she still had slung on her back, setting it down. Unclasping it, she reached in and removed the Slate Lite. It was giving off blue light in gentle pulses, chirping at them.

"That, my friend, was the sound of your data coming back..." Purah said.

"You mean it's done?!" Link gasped, giving a start.

Purah didn't immediately reply. She ran her finger along the Slate Lite's screen, her eyes skimming over the dense block of Sheikah glyphs shining up at her. "Oh, it's done, all right," she finally said. "Look at that…!" She glanced up to Link, a glint of trepidation in her eye. "...You ready for this?"

In spite of the sudden churning in his gut, Link firmed his lips, giving a strong nod. "Yes."

"That's the Linky I know," Purah beamed, a smirk on her lips. Gesturing to his Malice, she added, "C'mon, let's find out what makes you tick." Purah proceeded to wipe at her eyes, clean off her glasses, and give herself a motivational double fist-pump. She then got to her feet, donned her field bag, and turned toward the lake, hollering, "SYMIN!"

They spotted him across the water, kneeling by the shoreline. His head snapped up as he was scrubbing off bento boxes.

Purah brandished the Slate Lite and pointed to it, shouting, "DATA'S HERE! LET'S GO!"

Symin shot to his feet. "Coming!" he cried, gathering up the dishes and darting over.

As he made his way to them, Link stood on quivering knees. His hand automatically flew to his sludgy forearm, holding it tightly, a bloom of anxiety swelling in his chest. At long last, they were going to have some clear answers. He almost couldn't believe it. A part of him wanted nothing to do with the truth — the news of his death hadn't exactly been comforting — but he knew that not knowing was foolhardy. He had to know. He couldn't afford not to. Ready or not, it was time.

When Symin joined them, he wore an odd mixture of excitement and dread on his face. Tucking the bento boxes under his arm, he gathered next to Purah and took a peek at the Slate Lite. His eyes lit up with the abundance of data on the screen.

"This'll be interesting…" he hummed. Looking up, he gestured for them to move. "Maz Koshia will want to have a look at this."

Without hesitation, the trio set off at a brisk walk for the lab. As they headed up the hill, Link couldn't help but grow nervous at Symin's mention of the monk's name. He was reminded of the state Maz Koshia had been in when he implored him to go to the lake. The image of him draped over the pedestal, arms dangling worthlessly, made Link shudder.

"How is he?" Link asked quietly, his eyes on his feet.

There was a brief pause before Symin muttered, "Not good..."

Link swallowed, shooting Purah a worried look. Her expression was grim as she hugged the Slate Lite close to herself. "There were six burst fractures in his neck," she explained. "His spinal cord was crushed. We did our best to patch him up, but... he's paralyzed, Link. I'm sorry."

Link recoiled and nearly tripped, his heart bleeding with guilt inside him. His Malice gave a sudden _thump,_ his hand flying to it.

"Oh, Goddess — " Link wheezed.

Before he could descend into full-on horror at himself, Symin added, wincing, "There's something else, too…"

But something stole everyone's attention before Symin could elaborate. They were nearing the lab. The doors were closed. Above the brushing of their feet against the grass, another series of sounds carried through the air, startling them. Crashing. Glass breaking. It was coming from inside.

Grinding to a halt on the doorstep, Link, Symin, and Purah all exchanged confused looks, listening. More crashing. Something spilling onto the floor. Someone was in the lab. Wearing shared expressions of alarm, Link and Symin made for the doors and threw them open, rushing inside.

Indeed, there _was_ someone in the lab. But it wasn't an intruder. They all froze when they beheld Maz Koshia standing at the table in the heart of the room, his back to them. Symin's coat was bundled around his neck in a makeshift brace secured with twine, and he was muttering to himself. The floor was littered with mountains of paper and broken glass vials. The monk was clearing off the table, shoving away books, boxes of junk, and the venipuncture machine to make room for a slew of notepads, pencils, a map of Hyrule. As he worked, his movements were jerky and stuttered, as if he were fighting against himself to move.

Symin dropped the bento boxes. "Maz Koshia?!" he blurted, eyes bulging.

The monk sucked in a gasp and jolted as if he had been struck by lightning. He slapped his hands against the tabletop, his skeleton going stiff. But he didn't turn around to face them. It went uncomfortably quiet for a moment as everyone gawked at him. When he finally spoke, he didn't sound like himself. He sounded… strange.

"Tell me, Link… Is this what it feels like?" he marveled, his voice low, dripping with disturbed awe. "To carry him inside you…?"

Something within Link squirmed at his words. "W-what are you talking about?" he stammered.

Symin interjected before the monk could reply. "Maz Koshia, what are you doing?! _How_ are you doing it?! You were paralyzed, how is this — wait." Symin shook his head, his face flushing. "No, don't tell me…?"

Maz Koshia's hands curled into fists. "I don't have to, Symin," he mourned. "You already know."

"What is he talking about?!" Link said, crowding Symin for answers. "You said no more secrets."

Symin was beginning to sweat. "We were going to tell you — " he stammered.

"Tell me _what?!"_ Link fired back, struggling to keep his voice level.

"Link," Maz Koshia said. Link whirled his head around toward him, eyes wide. The monk's posture sagged as he leaned over the table. "I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this…"

"Say _what?_ Please, just tell me," Link begged.

With some difficulty, Maz Koshia straightened, gripping the table and carefully turning himself around. He had reapplied his veil, masking his face. His chest heaved with his labored, scratchy breaths. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed himself off the table with a grunt and ambled towards them, coming to a stop before Link.

Link, consumed with dread, cowered in his shadow. Without a word, the monk sunk to his knees, coming eye-level with Link. He reached out and laid a hand on Link's clean, non-Malice-coated shoulder, releasing a sigh through his nose. His touch sent a zing through Link's body. Maz Koshia raised his other hand to the knot of twine securing his makeshift neck brace, his fingers shaking. Link could only stare, speechless, as Maz Koshia pulled at the knot, untying it, and dragged both his veil and the brace off, exposing his face and neck.

What Link saw gored a hole in his stomach. The monk's expression was somber, dejected, his face smothered with burns. Something dark dribbled out of his nose and mouth. Through the scraps of his ancient flesh clinging to his neck — which had been cut open and pieced together — an uncanny magenta light shone, emanating from the thick sludge smothering his naked vertebrae.

Link's world was wrenched from underneath him. Something was morbidly wrong with the monk — and he knew exactly what. His mind surged with the grisly truth; when Maz Koshia had attacked him in the Shrine… Link's Malice had fought back. And it was staring him right in the face.

Link choked, his lungs spontaneously pulverizing. "No — !" He shook his head wildly, his heart plunging into the roiling sea of panic that used to be his stomach. "No, no — th-this isn't happening! Oh my Goddess — !"

Link's hands flew to his head, his fingers burrowing into his hair. He tried to pitch back, to get away, but Maz Koshia tightened his grip on his shoulder, holding him fast.

"Link — " he tried to say, but Link fought against him, digging his heels into the floor, gasping. "Link, it's not what you — "

But Link wasn't listening. His ears filled with a high-pitched screeching as he spiraled in his horror, unable to pry his gaze from the Malice dripping out of the monk's skull. _His Malice._ Link's breath surged through his bared teeth, his head swimming as he wheezed out incomprehensible nonsense. He knew what was coming. Memories of his previous victim bled into his frantic thoughts. His stomach rolled, bile shooting up his throat.

As Link struggled, Maz Koshia's eyes flickered to the Malice on his arm. It glared with magenta light, pulsating violently with Link's skyrocketing heartbeat. Symin and Purah scattered at the sight of it. Link couldn't afford to have it spread any further — none of them could. Maz Koshia finally yanked Link toward him and slapped his hands against his jawline, anchoring his face forward.

"Link, look at me, look at me — I'm fine," he said firmly, shaking Link slightly to rein in his panic.

Link squirmed, his eyes widening. " _N-no, you're not! I gave it to you, oh my Goddess, it's going to — !"_

Maz Koshia shook his head, seemingly reading his explosive thoughts. "I promise you, I'm fine! I won't end up like that Yiga. Trust me."

Link's face contorted at the monk's words. The memory of Izer, dissolving into a puddle of Malice, scalded his brain as he stared at him. He was expecting it.

" _W-what do you mean?!"_ Link cried. " _How can you say that?!"_

The monk's glowing eyes held him intently, but his pained expression betrayed his confidence. He swallowed, his hand finding his throat. "Because it has… healed me, somewhat… Sealed the damage in my neck."

Link stopped cold. He choked on his voice, gaping at the monk.

"How is that possible?!" Purah sputtered, coming around to get a better look. "Malice is…" she trailed off, glancing at the burns on the monk's face. "...destructive."

Maz Koshia's head sunk. "Believe me, I know of its power. It may have glued together my broken bones, but I can still feel it... taking its toll." He shivered, clinging to his throat, where he wretched a little. "I can feel _him…_ slithering inside me..."

The room seemed to grow colder. Symin and Purah cringed away slightly. Link, heart shattering, lost whatever strength he had and sunk to his knees, his body shaking. Maz Koshia lowered his hands, dropping them in his lap.

Out of breath, Link doubled over, drilling his fingers into his head. Tears stung his eyes. " _This is all my fault…!"_ he whispered.

Maz Koshia frowned. "It surged down my throat back in the Shrine," he explained, his voice gritty. "You didn't mean for it to. This was an accident, Link."

"But I did this to you!" Link fired back, his voice strained. "It came from _me!"_

"You're wrong," Maz Koshia urged him.

His voice had donned a sharp edge, startling Link, making his breath hitch. His head snapped up. Link found himself speechless as he knelt beneath the weary gaze of Maz Koshia.

The monk continued, cocking his head. "This came from Ganon, not you." Looking upon Link's Malice, he added, "I cannot say that I understand this… poison... perfectly, but I do know this — Malice is, for all intents and purposes, Ganon's pure, raw hatred, so concentrated it takes corporeal form. It is _emotion,_ above all else." He then turned his gaze on Link's face. "True, you possess some of it, but it is not _of_ you. It is merely _inside_ you. To that end, I hypothesize that the emotions of whomever bears it might influence its properties, somewhat."

Link's Malice tingled at the monk's words. "I don't understand," he breathed, grasping it.

Maz Koshia raised his hands, explaining, "In the Shrine, when I… attacked you — you were afraid, weren't you? You didn't want to fight. You pushed me away." Link searched his face, sweat crawling down his neck. Eyes glittering with inspiration, the monk continued, "And then, when you faced that Yiga clansman — what were you feeling then?"

Link paused, his mind carrying him back to that night. His panic at the monk's news dissolved somewhat, burned away by the memory of his rage that had ignited his brutal attack on Izer. "I-I was angry," Link murmured. "He hurt Paya, terrified her, stole the Slate. I… I _hated_ him."

Maz Koshia nodded earnestly. "And what did your Malice do to him?"

Link swallowed. " _It destroyed him."_

"Exactly — emotions must influence how Malice manifests in its targets. You were afraid of _me,_ but didn't wish me dead. You were only defending yourself. That must be why I'm — " Maz Koshia cut off suddenly, doubling over to cough. Everyone jumped, rushing forward to help him, but he straightened, waving them off, gaining some control over his lungs. He wiped at his mouth, finishing, "...Why I am like this."

"That's insane…" Purah whimpered.

Symin stepped forward, his brow creased. "But Malice is still Malice — look at what it's doing to you, Maz Koshia. Why isn't it doing the same to Link?"

The monk shook his head, eying Link's third eye and bone mask. "That, I am still trying to decipher..."

"Well, maybe this might tell us something?" Purah suggested, holding up the Slate Lite. "Link's data came back."

The monk's head lifted. He perked up a bit. "Has it, now?"

Purah nodded, extending the Lite to him. "Here, have a look."

Maz Koshia took the device, running his eyes over its screen. Eyes tightening, he straightened, shakily heaving himself to his feet. He then gestured to the table. "Come, let's gather there. I… I need to take notes."

Symin and Purah dashed across the sea of papers and junk on the floor, gathering a few extra chairs and pulling them up. Maz Koshia set off at a stiff amble toward the table, dragging his feet. Link shook off his horror-induced paralysis and jumped up after noticing the monk's labored movements. Link rocketed forward, shadowing him. It appeared that, though the monk's neck had been healed slightly, the repairs were crude at best. Halfway to the table, the monk nearly toppled over, but thankfully Link was there to catch him.

"Thank you, Link," Maz Koshia murmured.

Link returned his thanks with a worried nod, helping him to a chair. Once everyone had found a seat, they all turned toward Maz Koshia as he poured over the Slate Lite in complete silence. Symin hovered a pencil over a fresh notepad; Purah leaned in eagerly, her mouth hanging open. Link, meanwhile, balled his fists on the tabletop, endeavoring to calm his churning gut.

Maz Koshia studied the Slate Lite for a while, one hand clamped over his mouth. Finally, he gave a humorless snort. "That clever beast…" he jeered, shaking his head, setting down the Slate Lite.

"W-what does it say?" Link asked, his voice weak.

Maz Koshia's gaze clouded over as he looked Link dead in the eye. "Your body breathes with Malice; not a single cell isn't saturated with it — osteocytes, muscle and organ tissue, blood cells, everything. It runs deep into your very DNA." He gestured to Link's crimson hair, to his bone mask. "That certainly explains your physiological changes..."

Link's face twitched. A thousand questions buzzed in his skull like wasps, but he couldn't find the acuity to voice anything but a hitch of his breath. Maz Koshia, cocking his head, leaned across the table, taking Link by his clean wrist and pushing his sleeve up.

"Incredibly… it's not a detriment to you at all," he marveled, turning Link's skeletal hand over. "Forgive me, Link — " the monk quickly added. Everyone jumped when Maz Koshia shot up from his chair and pinned down Link's arm, snatching up a knife hidden under a notepad. Without provocation, he dragged its blade across Link's wrist, slicing him open.

Link jolted and cried out. Black and magenta-flecked blood gushed out of his wound. It ran down his skin, staining the table. Throwing down the knife, Maz Koshia seized Link's Malice-slathered hand. In spite of the sizzling of his skin, the monk thrust Link's Malice onto his wound, holding it there. Both of their teeth gritted. After a few seconds, Maz Koshia retracted his smoking hand; thick gobs of Malice dripped from it, eating through his flesh. But everyone's gazes were fixed on Link's wrist after he pulled his Malice away — at the knife wound that suddenly didn't exist.

Link, Purah, and Symin all took their chins back, their eyes bulging. "It's gone…!" Symin gasped.

Maz Koshia agreed, his voice grim, "If anything… it's _sustaining_ you."

Link, struggling to breathe, stared at his trembling hands, his gaze flying between his skeleton glowing through his skin and the pulsating nightmare coating his arm. "Why is this happening to me?" he murmured.

Maz Koshia went stiff. "...Because this was deliberate," he answered. He withered, his voice weak as he went on, "He wanted this to happen. The Shrine… it couldn't save you."

Link's stomach soured with dread at yet another confirmation of his demise. Hearing it come from Maz Koshia's lips somehow made it even more disturbing. Link gasped when Maz Koshia suddenly smashed a fist into the table.

"Confound it all, it couldn't save you… my life's work!" the monk hissed. He breathed heavily for a moment before his anger fizzled, a weak scowl finding his brow. "But The Beast could — he brought you back from the dead."

A ghastly silence settled upon them. Finally, Link voiced what everyone was thinking.

" _Why?"_

The silence lingered like smog. Link's question hung heavily in the air. Maz Koshia sank back into his chair. He shook his head, absolutely devastated by his lack of knowledge. "I have no idea," he lamented. "For the life of me, I cannot fathom his motives." Shrugging, he droned, "He succeeded — he killed you. Why bring you back to life at all? When the Princess fell — and she will fall — who would stand against him, if you were dead? His victory was absolute."

Link's blood curdled at the thought of Zelda falling before Calamity Ganon. He couldn't even imagine it. The room fell quiet again as their minds all collectively ground to scrape up some kind of answer to such a daunting question.

Eventually, Symin contemplated aloud, "Well… think about it… What does he have _now_ that he didn't have last time?" He pointed to Link. "You."

Link's heart fluttered. Maybe it was his imagination, but the Sheikah Slate on his hip seemed to warm at Symin's words. But he never got the chance to look into it further.

Brows furrowing, Symin rambled on, "What if… what Ganon's planning something else this time?"

Link shifted in his seat. "What do you mean, _something else?_ What else could there be?"

Symin threw up his hands, shaking his head. "I-I don't know, I just thought that, maybe, with the princess holding him back, he'd, I don't know, restrategize?"

"But to what end?" Maz Koshia asked. "Why even resurrect Link at all if he meant to kill him?" The monk's train of thought slowed, his eyes falling on Link's Malice. "How did he even get inside you in the first place?"

There was another pause as everyone considered that. It was both Link and Purah who suddenly froze, a realization consuming both of them at the same time. They locked eyes for a fleeting second before their gazes flew to Link's tunic.

"Oh my Goddess, I think I know — !" Purah murmured. "Everyone, look at this!"

She hopped onto the table and clambered over to Link. He read her mind, getting to his feet. Symin and Maz Koshia watched as Link pulled his tunic taut, Purah tracing her finger along the line of stitchwork they had discovered earlier.

Purah explained, "This, right here — this used to be a bloody hole. I saw it myself. Impa stitched it back together. What if…?"

Maz Koshia's eyes widened as Purah spoke. He got to his feet as well, reaching across the table. He tugged Link's tunic up, exposing his abdomen. There, barely visible against his semi-transparent skin, was the odd, triple-pronged scar the monk had noticed during Link's examination.

Maz Koshia drank in the scar, his mind surging. "That shape…!" he breathed.

Without warning, Maz Koshia whirled around, scanning the lab frantically. Like a man possessed, he began to tear through the piles of paper and other refuse cluttering the floor, upending a box of old machine parts, before he finally found his prize. Snatching it up, he scrambled back over to Link, tripping and bumping the table. Link went still, morbidly curious as to what the monk was doing. He finally laid eyes on what Maz Koshia had dug up and was now holding up to his skin.

It was the dislodged foot of a Guardian. Link recognized the shape and the talons. Sweat formed on his forehead at the sight of it for some reason. They all stared at the foot, their blood chilling. Peering closer, their eyes traveled to the distinct scar on Link's abdomen. Its sharp points matched the toes of the Guardian perfectly.

Everyone's jaws dropped. Their eyes slowly drifted upward until they met.

"A Guardian…?" Link gasped.

"Wait, you're saying a _Guardian_ infected Link?" Symin asked, blinking rapidly.

"Perhaps…?" Maz Koshia pondered, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Perhaps some of Ganon's Malice leaked into you when it pierced your body…?"

A ghostly spike of pain jolted through Link's gut from out of nowhere. His breath caught as he was abruptly stolen away from the lab and thrust into the shadow of a colossal figure, veins of violent crimson burning within it. It glared upon him with a hungry, boiling, unblinking eye, growing till it towered above him. But it suddenly dropped, part of it pressing into Link. His body convulsed without his control — he was wrenched out of his own head, returning to the lab.

A sudden onset of pure, paralyzing fear stopped his heart for a few moments, terror flickering along his ribs. "That was it…" he breathed. His hand drifted to his abdomen as if covering a wound. "That was where this all started…"

"It has to be," Purah agreed. "When Robbie and I were in Kakariko, when they brought you to us… you were barely alive. You were bleeding half to death — from _there."_ She pointed to Link's scar. "Something had hurt you — w-we just didn't know what."

"...Until now," Maz Koshia marveled.

Even in the warmth of the room, Link had somehow broken into a cold sweat. Finally, everything was coming together. It all made sense, as disquieting as that was. But as he stewed over it all, he couldn't help but think back to his fight with Izer. Back to his explosive rage, where he had impaled him as easily as if he were paper. The Malice within him had punched through the Yiga in the exact same place. Link's veins prickled at the realization. He gulped. It was as if the Malice inside him had known where to strike. It had done it before.

Link's stomach heaved. He dropped his tunic, stepping back and crumbling into his chair. He stared emptily into the table, eyes wide and unblinking.

Everyone moved toward him, their eyes filled with concern. Maz Koshia reached out, carefully, laying a hand on Link's shoulder. Link didn't so much as flinch.

"Link, are you all right? I know this is a lot to process," Maz Koshia said. When Link didn't reply, the monk cupped Link's cheek, pleading with him, "Talk to us. Please."

Link barely heard Maz Koshia. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get what was polluting him _out._

His Malice-slicked fingers curled into a fist. He looked to Maz Koshia, asking, "If it got into me, then we can get it out. Right?"

Maz Koshia's lips pursed. He looked Link up and down, his mind already racing for a means to cure him. "There must be a way. There must be. But it won't be easy, I can guarantee you..." He scowled. "Ganon is too cruel for that." His eyes then fell on Link's Malice. "It is probably too late to ask this, but… I'm assuming relaxation didn't work?"

Link's teeth ground. "No. Nothing worked…" Symin and Purah gave dismal nods, affirming his words.

The monk straightened, grimacing. "Then perhaps our next steps are these — free the four Divine Beasts, reclaim the sacred sword, storm the castle, and, alongside the Princess, destroy and seal Calamity Ganon." Cocking his head, he gestured with his palm to Link's Malice. "Perhaps by purging the source, you can, in turn, purge it from yourself?"

Link swallowed. His brows knit together, something akin to confidence smoldering inside him. He had heard these words before, somewhere. Yes, King Rhoam had implored him with the same plan. Link thought he felt destiny calling his name.

Nodding, he stood, tightening his fists. "That will work," he stated. "That will cure me."

Maz Koshia shuddered almost invisibly. "It has to," he said.

Clearing his throat, the monk turned and directed everyone's attention to the map of Hyrule laid out on the table. Everyone gathered around.

"Now then, I suppose we ought to get to work, then?" Maz Koshia mused. He laid his hands on the map, beginning, "Though it may not be entirely original, our plan of attack is a familiar one, Link — you must gather a few necessary tools to combat calamity."

"The Divine Beasts?" Link asked.

"Precisely," Maz Koshia replied. "These Divine Beasts are colossal machines — fantastic feats of engineering that dwarf, quite literally, any modern technology. It is not a wonder why Ganon took them for himself." He continued, listing off their names, "They are Vah Ruta, Vah Rudania, Vah Medoh, and Vah Naboris. In my day, they played a vital role in subduing Calamity Ganon." He paused, sighing. "However, they suffered a similar fate to the Guardians one hundred years ago. Ganon seized control over them, turning them against the kingdom, as well as their Champions. Since the Great Calamity, they have gone offline, lying dormant somewhere throughout the land."

Link's eyes widened as he studied the map. Purah, noticing his onset of alarm, reassured him, "Don't worry, Link — we have an idea as to where they are, so don't think you have to search the entire continent over."

Part of Link was relieved at that. He was willing to take on this task — now, more than ever, after learning the truth — but found solace in not having to scour every corner of Hyrule.

"Quite so," Maz Koshia agreed with a small chuckle. "Now, the Divine Beasts are indeed an important piece of this plan, Link, and you _must_ bring them back to under our control. But truly, chief among these tools is the legendary sword that seals the darkness — the Master Sword."

Link's body locked up as his chest bloomed with something he didn't have a name for. It was… almost intoxicating. It radiated through him from the inside out, as warm and familiar as someone calling his name. It gave him chills. His Malice even shuddered slightly, though he barely noticed it for his awe at just those few words.

"The Master Sword…?" he repeated, the words caressing his tongue with such familiarity, he couldn't help but feel that he had kept them inside him all this time.

Maz Koshia beamed at him. "It rests here, at its pedestal in the heart of the Great Hyrule Forest," he explained, placing his finger on a dense patch of trees drawn onto the map. "The sword is forever bound to the soul of the hero. It will obey none other than you — and it is the only tool with which we can pierce The Beast's hide. The Sword eagerly awaits the return of its master."

Link didn't know what to say. He had been stricken speechless.

Maz Koshia continued, "Ultimately, our plan culminates in one place: Hyrule Castle. With the Master Sword in-hand, you must march to the castle, relieve Princess Zelda of her burden. Then, with the help of the Divine Beasts, as well as her divine power, work to strike down Calamity Ganon." His smile twitched slightly as he finished, "And, if we're right, free you of this Malice — once and for all."

There was a brief pause as everyone absorbed their battle plan. Finally, Maz Koshia peered deeply into Link, asking him, "What do you think, hero?"

Link wet his lips, his mind swimming with the monk's words. "I think…" he began, his breath ballooning in his chest. "I think I can do this."

Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah all smiled at him. Corrupted or not, he was still their knight. Their Champion. Link. Somewhere inside him, he knew that.

"We know you can do this. And we are here for you every step of the way," Maz Koshia promised. He then pressed his palms together and bowed to Link. Symin and Purah followed.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Link looked to the future with courage.

They spent the majority of the day, and well into the night, planning. They outlined ideal travel routes, points of interest in the wild — the Akkala Citadel, a Colosseum, the springs of Wisdom, Courage, and Power — and places Link ought to avoid, like the ruins of Castle Town, a bottomless swamp, and a few others. They also pinpointed approximate locations of the Divine Beasts — Vah Ruta, in Zora's Domain; Vah Rudania, near Death Mountain; Vah Medoh, in Hebra; and Vah Naboris, in the Gerudo Desert. If the Divine Beasts were as enormous as Purah and Maz Koshia said they were, then Link believed he would have no problem finding them.

Having a plan of attack helped calm Link's fear of the unknown. As he looked upon the map of Hyrule, he slowly came to the realization that he had a lot of ground to cover if he was to accomplish this task. Hyrule stretched farther than his mind could conceive. It was almost intimidating. But he had already come so far in a short amount of time since he rose from his tomb. This would be no easy feat, but with Purah, Symin, and Maz Koshia — and Princess Zelda, especially — on his side, he felt ready to tackle it. More ready than he had felt all day.

Eventually, well after midnight, everyone's minds had finally been run ragged. Their eyes drooped, their brainstorming growing sluggish. Over a few yawns, Maz Koshia suggested they all retire for the night. They had much to do come the following morning. As they all shuffled off to bed, they didn't bother cleaning up the table, leaving a veritable hurricane strewn all over the lab.

In spite of the mess, Symin found some room for them to sleep. There weren't any extra bedrooms upstairs, so they made due with a relatively-clean corner of the lab and some extra futons. Maz Koshia was much too tall to fit under his futon, but he was nevertheless grateful. Symin and Purah, upon saying their goodnights, made their way up to their rooms, leaving Link and Maz Koshia downstairs.

The monk insisted that Link get some rest. It didn't take long for Link to drift off. He was utterly exhausted from the day's events. As he slept, Maz Koshia sat on his own futon beside him, his thoughts glinting with hope as he listened to Link's deep, drawing breaths.

And yet… a maelstrom of doubt and unease still plagued the monk. He thought in circles about everything that had happened that day. Indeed, so much had happened that it filled his skull to spilling. He found himself subconsciously rubbing his neck, trying to ignore the subtle glowing of his vertebrae. Hopeful as he was in the wake of his conversation with Link, Symin, and Purah, he still found himself squirming against the subtle stirring of the Malice inside him.

Throughout it all, all he could think to himself was this — Was there more to be done? Was the plan they had put together enough?

Hours later, in the inky throes of morning, Link began to stir. He grunted, his face twisting. Maz Koshia, by then half-asleep, was roused by Link's movement. Blinking away his exhaustion, he turned his head, growing worried for a moment as the Malice coating Link's arm glowed brighter than it had before. He was about to reach out to Link to wake him but found himself cringing back instead. Before his eyes, the Malice coating Link's arm began to seep into his skin, retreating inside him. In a matter of seconds, Link's arm had returned to normal, as if his Malice had never spawned. Link, still fast asleep, exhaled deeply, turning over.

Maz Koshia slumped back into the wall, astonished, whereupon he breathed a sigh of relief. He had begun to fear that Link's exposed Malice might become permanent. All the same, dread sullied the monk's relief. Knowing that Link's Malice had receded — that it _could_ recede, even — was a boon. But even so, the monk fully recognized that it still lurked inside Link. At any moment, it could rear itself again.

Maz Koshia cupped his hands over his face, his mind roaring with questions and speculation. Without provocation, he broke into a brief fit of coughing, though he endeavored to stifle it so as not to wake Link. When it had passed, his throat burned. He noticed with a pang of fear a few glowing droplets spattered against his pants. His breath and spine rattled as he turned to check on Link.

Still asleep. For now.

Maz Koshia swallowed a bitter lump in his throat. As he gazed upon Link, it came back to him — an idea that he had been agonizing over for several hours. An idea that he believed might turn the tide in this new war of attrition that Calamity Ganon had waged… if he was only brave enough to execute it.

He knew he had to do _something._ Something more.

Ensuring Link was asleep, Maz Koshia got to his feet, silent as a breeze. Stepping over Link, he crept to the front door and eased it open, slipping out. He closed the door behind him, making for the stairs. He had to wake Symin and Purah.

They needed to talk.

* * *

 **...The plot thickens!**

 **Gosh, I had such a great time with this chapter! I thoroughly enjoyed exploring just how mentally-damaging living through the Great Calamity would have been. My heart really bled for Purah in this one. :( And I'm growing to love Symin so freaking much. He's a great guy. And Maz Koshia... I won't even get started on him. He's rapidly becoming one of my favorite characters in this thing. And then there's Link. I feel so bad for him. Sometimes it pains me to do these things to him. He isn't anywhere close to the end of his journey, and he's already been through way too much. Poor thing! But that's what makes him strong. I hope his struggles are interesting and realistic - I strive for that!**

 **Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Any questions? Predictions? Conclusions of your own? Would you like me to shorten future chapters? This one was longer than I anticipated, but I just had to fit these scenes into one chapter. They were so cohesive it only made sense.**

 **Finally, some answers for our corrupted hero (and for you as well)! But what does it all mean? What else do they still not know?! Does Ganon have anything else up his sleeve? Stay tuned and find out!**

 **Until next time, friends - stay strong, stay healthy, stay happy!**


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